


The First Terrace of Purgatory

by vislokawitch



Series: Into the Eternal Darkness [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Blood and Injury, Deckerstar remains in the black hole, Depression, God’s A+ Parenting, Maze deserves happiness 2019, Multi, Nightmares, PTSD, Stalking, Whump, Wing Grooming, goes AU after 4x02, happy polyamory, how to domesticate your idiot angels and demons, no love triangles, shady angels are shady, thank you very much, the Most Dysfunctional Family in the Universe, twin archangels of mayhem and mischief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vislokawitch/pseuds/vislokawitch
Summary: Lucifer wonders how to pick up the threads of an old life, even though there’s no return to how things were before. Meanwhile, Chloe struggles to find a way to avoid damnation. Michael is... well, he’s Michael – as always he believes that Lucifer is a cinnamon roll.Unfortunately for them all, while Heaven is slow to react, it never forgets anything...





	1. Send Me an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> When in doubt, paraphrase LOTR, eh? Okay, so this story won’t make any sense without reading the first one. 
> 
> **Standard disclaimer:** I don’t own Lucifer. English is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. 
> 
> Some plot bunnies just wouldn’t leave me alone and the only way to get rid of them is to write them down. I decided the whole series is going to have three parts. The fic title is a reference to the 2nd part of ‘Divine Comedy’ where the 1st terrace of Purgatory is the place of punished for those who committed the sin of pride. It fits for many reasons. 
> 
> The credit for the chapter title belongs to Scorpions. 
> 
> Sorry if the first chapter is a bit boring but I’m jumping 6 months forward and I needed to explain what happened in all this time. 
> 
> **Content Warning:** stalking (don’t worry, I’m not making a creep of any of the characters I’ve introduced so far)

Chloe stares unseeingly at the screen of her work computer. She’s been rereading the same paragraph of her latest report for about fifteen minutes without understanding a word from it. She knows, she’s too tired to do anything more today. It’s late and the cleaning staff for quite some time has been giving her meaningful stares to go home.

She doesn’t want to leave the precinct. The mere thought of being alone in the four walls of her mother’s house makes her apprehensive... especially since the ‘alone’ part of that is debatable.

The fine hairs on her hands arise and goose-bumps form on her skin for no apparent reason. She tenses, warily scanning darkened bullpen; it’s so quiet she can clearly hear the hum of the air conditioning. She realizes with trepidation that there’s no sign of the night staff or cleaners; there’re no sounds announcing presence of other people anywhere in the building... The whole precinct appears to be deserted.

And she knows someone is here with her...

“Stop with the games, show yourself,” she demands, ignoring slight shaking of her voice.

“You are getting better at telling when I am around,” says someone right behind her.

Chloe almost gets a heart attack and nearly falls to the floor when she abruptly jerks away from him. She tries to glare at him but her dilated pupils and accelerated breathing betray her fear.

He’s not supposed to be here, damn it! She’s convinced herself that the precinct is the angel free zone – this is why she sticks so long after hours. His appearance here feels oddly violating because it effectively destroys her last safe haven.

“I told you to leave me the hell alone!” she growls, aiming for intimidating and failing rather spectacularly.

The angel stares down at her unblinkingly with his pale blue eyes that seem devoid of even a memory of warmth. She can’t pinpoint anything obviously repelling about his long thin nose and high cheekbones or grey, slicked-back hair, and yet he makes her skin crawl. The fact he’s even taller than Lucifer doesn’t exactly help the situation.

He slowly bends and puts his hands on armrests of her chair, successfully trapping her in place; his every move is deliberate and threatening. Her internal creep alert screeches at her demanding flight or fight response but she’s aware either is useless in a confrontation with a celestial being.

Bitterly she ponders how even Satan himself never elicited such a response from her.

“I believe we have already established, you do not have any choice on the matter,” he informs her coldly. “You prayed to Heaven for clemency and yet you have not fulfilled your task.”

In the six months since she tried to banish Lucifer to Hell and subsequently ended up damned herself, she’s been researching everything there is to be found about the angels. Sadly, all sources failed at one thing – none of them warned her that the angels are major dicks.

And yes, she prayed in vague hopes that someone in Heaven listens. Now she regrets this decision.

“I _never_ promised to do anything for you,” she spats. “I don’t want to be involved in your schemes. I’m only trying to avoid going to Hell after I’ll die,” her voice hitches at the last word and she hates herself for showing him weakness. Unfortunately, fear is something of her constant companion those days; it’s practically choking her, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

Before she’s found out that Heaven and Hell exist, she never thought much about the afterlife. Neither science nor religion offered satisfactory answers so she put it out of her mind as something she had no influence over. At most, she hoped for some undefined peace.

Now she knows there are higher powers controlling what happens in the Great Beyond and she managed to personally anger two of them. She’s going to Hell, there’s no doubt about that.

She’s been obsessively reading everything on the subject. The descriptions of the infernal realm differ from raging inferno to frozen wasteland and everything in between but they all agree on one thing – it’s a horrid place filled with eternal torture, deprived of any hope of salvation. She can feel the truth of that reverberating through her very soul thanks to a mark burned on her by a vengeful archangel. Almost every night she wakes up soaked in sweat from nightmares of Hell, her feverish imagination is already doing a decent job at tormenting her...

The fragile line of her life is all that separates her from this fate. A car accident, a desperate suspect, a stupid food poisoning and that’s it... straight to Hell she goes. And even if she manages to avoid an untimely death, the unforgiving passage of time will kill her eventually anyway...

So she prayed, only to end up with a bonus problem in the form of a stalkerish angel.

“You have been created for one purpose and _one purpose only_,” he sneers right into her face. He’s uncomfortably close; her hands itch to reach for her gun but she knows it won’t do her any good. “You would not even exist if you were not chosen to send the Devil back to Hell. So far you have failed.”

“I don’t want to hurt Lucifer anymore,” she protests.

No matter how much time has passed since that disastrous evening, the memories remain all too clear. Probably the most gutting thing is that he trusted her all the way until it became impossible to deny what she’s done and that absolute faith he had in her broke irrevocably. It took the intervention of his brothers for her to realize that he never pretended something he wasn’t, that he truly was this cheerful, obliviously kind person; someone who definitely didn’t deserve to be deceived and hurt. Even during the exorcism, she must have known this on some level. Why else would she avoid looking him in the eye if not in the fear that instead of some ancient evil, she’ll only see her drugged and defenseless partner, crying soundlessly at her betrayal? The guilt burns like acid in the pit of her stomach.

She’s never believed in things like cosmic justice or karma but now she wonders because since then her life started to progressively fall apart. She had to give up her apartment because without Maze’s input she couldn’t afford the rent. Apparently, it’s not so easy to find a new flat-mate when you have a kid – a lot of people consider it a deterrent and she had trouble trusting those who were willing.

She never realized how many of her friends she shared with Lucifer until most of them shunned her. Now she has only Ella and Dan but it’s probably only because neither of them _knows_ what occurred. She can easily picture the accusatory, disbelieving look in Ella’s large eyes and Dan... Well, he’s not a saint himself but if he found out she slipped someone a roofie and then subjected them to some ritualistic exorcism, she might face a very real possibility of losing both the custody over her daughter and her job.

On top of that, she’s been too distracted to properly focus on her work and her closure rate dropped drastically. The lieutenant isn’t pleased with her in the slightest.

The angel (he never even had the decency to introduce himself) straightens up but the look he gives her keeps her in place.

“You are truly testing my patience,” he says lowly. “I understand that your feeble human mind cannot process celestial affairs so it is even more important for you to do as you are told.”

Chloe trembles both in fear at the unvoiced threat and impotent anger at his condescension. Not that his attitude is any surprise. Since he first appeared, he’s been constantly harassing her, trying to make her do his bidding. She lives in perpetual fear of his next ‘visit’, knowing no space is sacred for him and she might expect him at any time and any place. Not even her home or workplace is safe.

She’s been insisting on Trixie spending more time at Dan’s place because it’s the only thing she can do to protect her from this creep. She doesn’t dare to think about what will happen when he’ll truly lose his patience and start to threaten her daughter. She’s not stupid enough to believe him incapable of that.

“Michael said...” she starts.

“Michael is a filthy _traitor_,” the angel interrupts harshly. “In hindsight, it is obvious he has always been in the league with the Devil. He will be appropriately punished in due time. His actions should be of no consequence for you.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “Aside from a small issue of him killing me on sight if I’ll do as much as _look_ at Lucifer.”

She flinches violently when the angel grabs her chin forcing her to look him in the eye. His hand is large and too hot, and she’d love nothing more than chop it off with an ax. If only she could find a supernatural one capable of doing that...

“Do not take that tone with me,” he warns mildly but it’s enough to send cold chill running down her spine. “Let me make this very simple for you... God has given you a task of imprisoning the Devil in Hell and you have _no choice_ but fulfill it. I do not care how or if you will lose your own life in the process. If you succeed and only then, you will be allowed an entrance to Heaven. Otherwise, an eternity in Hell will be your punishment for failure,” he stops and she shrinks under his dispassionate stare. “It is either your damnation or Lucifer’s.”

With that he lets her go and disappears into the thin air in a powerful gust of wind.

Chloe doesn’t even turn off her computer when she runs from the precinct as if a horde of hungry hellhounds were at her heels.

* * *

Lucifer finishes his set of the evening with a rendition of ‘Send Me an Angel’ and the patrons of LUX explode into enthusiastic applause.

Linda Martin watches the crowd from a booth in the VIP section of the club. The people are enchanted and even though the last note faded into silence they still float on the wave of emotions created by the song. Not for the first time, she wonders if it’s Lucifer’s undeniable talent and raw feelings he pours into music... or perhaps it’s his moods that can affect everyone around.

“Well, it’s good to know he hasn’t lost his sense of irony,” comments Maze as they observe Lucifer mingling with the patrons. “But I sincerely hope no more angels will decide to pop down for a visit. Those days it’s hard to not bump into one of these winged bastards every time you turn a corner.”

Los Angeles is truly living up to its name lately but visits from Gabriel and Remiel were far from pleasant. Linda involuntarily shudders; in response, Maze wraps her arm tighter around her and she snuggles gratefully.

“Aw, you guys are so adorable,” gushes Ella.

Maze straightens up immediately, glaring at the third member of the Tribe.

“Take this back,” she barks, prompting Linda to sigh and calmingly run fingers through her girlfriend’s thick, lustrous hair.

“She means that in the most badass way possible,” she says.

Truth be told, the doctor would prefer if Ella refrained from comments like this, as they’re making Maze self-conscious. The demon confessed once there is no such a thing as a casual touch in Hell – down there they got close to each other only to fight or fuck... or both. Before LA she’s only _ever_ been affectionate with Lucifer... who isn’t exactly an expert on the matter either.

Linda owes Trixie a big thank you for introducing Maze to the fine art of cuddling, which she became quite adept at... as long as no one calls her on it.

“I’m _not_ adorable,” grumbles the offended demon as if expecting to be mocked or attacked for it. Well, it’s probably precisely the case. Old habits die hard...

“Of course, you’re not,” assures the doctor and Ella takes a large gulp of her margarita to hide her smile.

Linda and Maze shared something for the longest time and the spark between the demon and Amenadiel has never gone out. Shortly after she moved into the doctor’s house, Linda made all three of them compare notes and they decided to try the polyamory. Navigating intricacies of that reminds her of juggling grenades while balancing on a line suspended over a minefield but ultimately it is so _worth_ it. She’s never been happier than she is now with her mismatched demon-angel family and a ‘fledgling’ on the way.

“You know, I still have no idea why you two kicked out Decker from the Tribe,” says tipsy Ella out of the blue. “No one wants to tell me _what_ she did... her including.”

Maze stiffens and Linda almost chokes on a sip of juice she just took. Invoking Chloe’s name has a similar effect as saying ‘Voldemort’ in the wizard community in ‘Harry Potter’.

“Look,” continues determined Ella, frowning slightly. “I get that she’s screwed up badly and it’s the reason why Lucifer’s stopped working with the LAPD.”

“You’re not wrong here,” drawls Maze, clutching her glass so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter into million pieces.

“I’d have to be blind to not see that you’re all furious with her but don’t you think it’s getting a bit too far?” asks Ella. “I mean, she’s been awfully depressed for months now. She’s basically lost all her friends and her life sort of crumbles around her.”

“Good. She has no one to blame for that but herself,” snaps Maze harshly. “Ask her what she did... and what else she wanted to do. I’m very curious what her answer will be.”

Linda nods grimly. She’s a celestial insider herself, she knows what it’s like when your whole worldview just shatters and you’re faced with the knowledge that the supernatural exists... and the Devil himself stares at you hopefully from your couch. She too had some weird ideas like changing her name and running until she’d find herself on the other side of the globe.

Still... Chloe’s extreme reaction caught her completely by surprise. Her decisions might have been influenced by the priest but she still chose to in cold blood harm one of her closest friends. If everything went according to her plan, Lucifer would be as good as dead for everyone on the earthly plane and imprisoned for all eternity in Hell... The place that’s the very definition of the worst fate that can befall a being with a soul.

To make it worse, Chloe was going to do the same to Maze. Thank God (literally) that the angels are so hard to destroy but what about a demon? She has no soul, what if some nefarious ritual permanently killed her? There’d be no return from that. No more dagger-loving, leather-clad badass Mazikeen.

The very thought chills Linda to the bone and she comforts herself by lovingly rubbing circles on the back of her demon’s neck.

Moreover, Linda is pregnant with the baby of an angel. It’s the first time anything like that happened in history but for some reason, there are passages in the Bible describing the Nephilim as malevolent giants. What if someone took this as a good enough excuse to ‘protect the world from evil’ by trying to harm her unborn child? Like maybe someone who’s already proven herself willing to turn against her friends on practically no evidence whatsoever? Someone who’s arrogantly presumed she knows enough to make arbitrary judgments on matters she had no business in interfering?

All in all, Linda trusts Chloe only as far as she can throw her and she doesn’t want her anywhere near her family. She’s done more than enough damage already.

“Well,” Linda stares sternly into Ella’s eyes. She knows the younger women means well but let’s not take any chances. “Whatever else you’ll do, don’t ask Lucifer.”

“Don’t ask me what?” inquires a familiar voice right behind them.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear... Unnoticed by them Lucifer’s meandered through the crowd toward their booth. And he’s not alone – somewhere on the way, he’s found Michael and now they’re both giving them identical curious looks. Even after all this time she still needs to blink a few times to convince herself, she’s not seeing double.

“To play for Amenadiel,” says flippantly Maze, casually throwing her arm around Linda’s shoulders. “He bawls like a baby when he hears your take on sad songs.”

Lucifer tilts his head inquisitively. In his typical fashion, he chooses the worst possible moment to be intuitive as he clearly picks up on the remains of the tension around their table. Michael senses the same vibes and makes an educated guess.

“Perhaps we should test that theory the next time he’ll visit us?” he suggests diplomatically, playfully nudging his brother in hopes of distracting him. “It might be a sight worth seeing.”

The Devil harrumphs, evidently not convinced by their prevarication but he has no more time to ponder on it as Ella basically catapults herself to hug him tightly, startling him as always. He goes rigid at the sudden invasion of his personal space, unsure how to react. Finally, he carefully pats her back, at a loss of what to do with his hands.

Linda bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling because this sight unfailingly reminds her of an overly enthusiastic kitten jumping a very confused Doberman.

“You played beautifully, Luce,” exclaims enthusiastically Ella, looking up to see Lucifer’s face. “You could do this professionally.”

“Yes, well, I play when the mood strikes me, Miss Lopez,” he says, standing perfectly still as if turned to stone. “I could never do that on a schedule.”

“Why, isn’t that a mark of a true artist... playing from their heart,” answers cheerfully Ella and she lets go of Lucifer, only to launch herself at unsuspecting Michael. “It’s nice to see you again, Mike.”

The archangel’s eyes go comically round in surprise. He awkwardly wraps one arm around Ella’s shoulders, for all intents and purposes, looking like someone who’s seen people hugging but has never done this himself.

“Hi to you too, Ella,” he says, clearly baffled that a human casually touches him and uncomfortable with this development.

Not for the first time, Linda wonders about the angels’ life in Heaven. Amenadiel has no issue showing affection but he never knows when it’s appropriate, missing all the cues most people usually pick up instinctually. Eventually, she asked him and he explained that back in Silver City they bask in the love of their Father... and mostly keep a polite distance from their siblings. Supposedly, this way they could better focus their devotion on the being that mattered the most – God.

The exception from that is when the angels preen each other’s feathers. According to Amenadiel, it’s not something done lightly or with a random person – he was near tears when he asked Maze and her both to groom his wings. He said, it’s the most intimate thing for an angel and it’s a privilege reserved only for those they trust completely.

Ella finally releases evidently relieved Michael who drifts toward Lucifer until their shoulders brush lightly. Their behavior tells Linda more about their cold upbringing than any of the angels would probably ever admit.

“Nice shirt by the way,” snickers Ella.

Michael, who wears a T-shirt with ‘I’m the Evil Twin’ written across his chest, grins like a Cheshire cat, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Oh, please, don’t encourage him,” groans Lucifer. “He thinks, he’s hilarious.”

“Says the Devil who actually wears Prada,” counters Michael.

Lucifer glares at him and then suddenly notices that one of his curls sticks at a particularly ridiculous angle. Linda can almost see his perfectionist tendencies taking over as he makes a not-so-sneaky attack in an attempt to smooth down his brother's messy hair. Amused Michael just swats away his hand, clearly used to Lucifer’s failed attempts at making him ‘more presentable’.

“I still can’t believe your real names are Lucifer and Michael,” says Ella. “Did your parents hate you or something when they were naming you?”

“Yes,” they answer in perfect unison, surprising the forensic scientist with their seriousness at a question made in jest. “Well, Mom occasionally doesn’t,” adds Lucifer after a second thought.

“But that mostly depends on Her moods,” clarifies Michael scowling.

Linda winces at a memory of their Mother. She has some rather strong opinions about Goddess’ ‘love’ for her children and her person in general.

“Does that mean you have Gabriel, Raphael, and Azrael as well?” wants to know Ella.

“Unfortunately,” grumbles Lucifer.

Linda can’t help but share this sentiment. Soon after the Devil’s forced visit to Hell, the twins went for a trip around the world. She can attest to that as Lucifer was sending her photos at all times of day and night. That is until Remiel showed up with a plan of ‘cutting the fledgling out of the human’ and taking it to Silver City. Amenadiel told his brothers about that and they returned to LA in case more of their siblings had similarly ‘brilliant’ ideas.

She’s not particularly happy with her angel trying to keep it a secret from her. She had to find out from the twins - she almost got a heart attack when they both appeared in her office out of thin air and concerned Lucifer started to ask her if she’s okay.

“Your family is so weird,” muses Ella. “But all the families are. By the way... will you go back to working with the LAPD? Everyone really misses you,” she smiles slyly. “I even caught Dan stocking the precinct’s fridge with additional pudding out of the habit.”

Lucifer presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes suddenly missing the usual spark. He starts to play with his cufflinks, staring at them as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. His resignation had nothing to do with a lack of interest in further helping the police and everything with avoiding certain female detective like a plague.

“The LA finest had been able to catch the criminals without my help before,” he answers dryly. “I’m sure they’ll manage. Somehow.”

“Well, there’s no pressure to return to something that doesn’t feel right anymore,” assures Linda, sensing Lucifer’s darkening mood. It’s by no means Ella’s intention but at this stage feeling pressured into being anywhere near a person who hurt him is something to be avoided. As far as she can tell, he’s still not ready for that confrontation. She looks at Michael in the hope of distraction. “Speaking of career changes... how’s that going for you?”

“Surprisingly well. Allegedly I have a patience of a _saint_,” he answers and judging by the perplexed look on his face this time he’s not aiming for being witty. He’s genuinely confused by this assessment of himself. “That’s not something I’ve _ever_ heard before.”

So far she hasn’t observed much of his notorious prickliness but she has a theory that being away from Heaven is doing him lots of good.

It’s been over a month since the twins returned from their travels and since then the archangel somehow ended up getting employed as an instructor in self-defense classes. For someone who’s spent God knows how many eons in an enclosed environment of Silver City and changed his whole life fairly recently, he’s unexpectedly well-adjusted.

Linda sighs internally and makes a mental note to enroll Amenadiel on pottery classes or something – she really is on an end of the rope with him. Her angel doesn’t share the twins’ extroverted nature and he tends to brood at home, mourning the fact he has no friends aside for their little group and Dan. She’s been trying to help him assimilate a bit more with humans as he’s clearly still shaken by being shunned by his angelic family.

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s still eyeing Michael’s offending curls. He launches another attack that is easily batted away by his progressively more entertained brother.

“It was nice to see you all but I have plans for this night,” says Michael, grinning. “Don’t wait up for me, Luci.”

He catches Lucifer completely by surprise by ruffling his hair and then he disappears in the crowd at truly supernatural speed. The Devil squawks in outrage, staring after his brother in disbelief, his mouth agape.

“That little shit!” he exclaims indignantly. ”It means war!”

Linda thinks wryly that a declaration like this from the Devil, directed at the infamous archangel would sound far more ominous if she didn’t know he only means a prank war. Or scratch that... it sounds ominous anyway since, in the end, they’ll probably team up on Amenadiel. Again.

Lucifer looks as petulant as a cat who got sprinkled with water as he attempts to pat his hair back into some semblance of order. Laughing Ella drags him down to sit near her, trying to help him in this hopeless endeavor. He uses the front camera of her phone as an impromptu mirror.

“Want me to catch him for you?” inquires Maze who’s been watching their antics with a lazy smirk.

“There’s no need. He’ll come back on his own when he’ll want his wings preened,” the glint in Lucifer’s eyes is positively devilish. “You think I should dump gold glitter on him? He’ll look like a Christmas decoration.”

“Good idea but the pink one will do even better,” Maze nods approvingly. “And better don’t forget to send me a photo,” she adds menacingly.

“Oh, you can count on it,” promises smugly Lucifer, deeply engrossed in plotting his ‘terrible’ revenge.

Linda barely stops herself from rolling her eyes at a bunch of ancient beings who act like children. If she didn’t know any better, looking at Lucifer now as he jokes with Maze and Ella, she’d think he came out unscathed from his ordeal...

She knows better, though.


	2. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer angsts a lot, Trixie makes an entrance and the local population of dorks shouldn’t be left unsupervised. There’s pink glitter involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the song belongs to Simon & Garfunkel.

Chloe smiles at him nervously as Lucifer prattles on how glad he is there are no more secrets between them. He should be overjoyed that they’re finally getting somewhere with their relationship... instead, he feels oddly disquieted. He’s happy so why this happiness feels so cloying, making his skin crawl?

Something’s wrong... He can’t pinpoint what exactly but perhaps it’s the silence? He’s forgotten the music...

Babbling excuses, he rises from his place, even though every instinct tells him to not let Chloe out of his sight even for a second. He leaves the room anyway – his body moves on its own volition, ignoring his mind’s commands. He has no control...

He turns on the music and goes back to her like a puppet on strings, a smile painted on his lips... he can’t stop smiling and smiling. It’s only Chloe, he trusts her... so why he’s as afraid as if he were heading for his own execution?

She doesn’t see his unease... or maybe she ignores it as she raises her glass and he follows suit, meek and obedient. He watches his own hand holding the glass of red wine and he’s never seen anything more terrifying in his life. He drinks, even though some voice in his mind desperately screams at him to spill it.

Immediately a wave of dizziness overcomes him and he knows he crossed the point of no return, it feels like drowning. Chloe’s face a dispassionate mask – she watches him as coldly as the worst of criminals they arrested. He wants to ask her why, what’s going on but what comes out of his mouth is:

“Thank you, Detective. It’s more than I’ve _ever_ deserved.”

Like in slow motion he crumples on the floor. Suddenly it hits him that he lived through this before... that he knows _exactly _what’s happening. Fear gives him the strength to struggle against paralyzing weakness and for a moment it works. Maybe there’s hope...

But then Chloe is over him. She presses one slender hand to his chest, pushing him down, down with relentless force until once again he’s helplessly lying on the floor. She lets him go but he still can’t move under her pitiless stare. There’s divine brilliance in her endlessly blue eyes and with an awful certainty, he realizes she’s an extension of his Father’s will.

“You shouldn’t be here at all, Lucifer,” she declares icily. “Wherever you go, death and destruction follow and I simply cannot allow that. It’s better for everyone if you go back to Hell, where you _belong_.”

He can’t help but tremble, hearing these words falling from her lips.

“No, please... anything but this,” he begs but she doesn’t pay him any attention as she rises. “I’ll do whatever you want...”

She doesn’t even grace him with another look or an answer as she opens a black book, searching for the right page. He’s beneath her notice.

Suddenly he becomes aware that his penthouse is no longer warm and homely – it’s dark and unfriendly, the shadows menacing... and it’s much bigger then it has any right to be. It’s full of people and with growing dread, he recognizes the entire Host of his siblings. They’re staring at him with undisguised contempt, gathered to witness his punishment being delivered. Among them he recognizes Linda, Ella, Daniel and some more of LA’s citizens; disdain is easily readable on all of their faces.

He can’t bear that, their hatred burns like acid... too late, he notices it does precisely that. With horror, he watches as his angelic visage evaporates, dissolving into nothingness. Underneath there’s only the desolation of burned flesh... only a monster. All of his hideousness exposed beneath their baleful glares as the evidence of his misdeeds – there’s absolutely _nothing _he can say or do to defend himself.

He wants to escape, hide... but there are heavy, adamantine chains keeping him firmly in place. His struggle is futile. He can’t get away from what he is and they all know it.

Just as Chloe starts to chant the spell, his eyes find Michael in the crowd.

“Please, have mercy... don’t let me fall...” he pleads but his brother doesn’t answer, his eyes downcast as he’s crying silently. “Please, don’t leave me...” he adds desperately.

Then he remembers that this too had already happened before and Michael didn’t do anything to stop their Father when Lucifer was disgraced and cast away from Heaven.

He’s alone... just like he’s _always _been.

Through sheen of tears, he sees how Chloe glows with otherworldly, holy light. He can’t even tell anymore if it’s her that condemns him or his Father. It doesn’t matter – the justice must be done and the world is being protected from evil and corruption... from him. He’s failed to prove his worth and the only place for him is Hell... he doesn’t deserve anything better.

He screams in agony when flames engulf him and he falls...

...only to land pretty much immediately on something hard. For a moment he struggles in a blind panic until he realizes he’s tangled in a blanket and he lies on the marble floor near the bed. He freezes, unblinkingly staring at familiar darkness of his bedroom. He hears his blood rushing as his heart pounds maddened staccato.

His fear skyrockets anew when he realizes he can’t sense Michael’s reassuring presence anywhere in LUX. He imagines at least a dozen of dreadful scenarios before he remembers that his brother said he has plans for tonight. When he focuses, he detects him somewhere in LA.

Relieved, once again he slumps listlessly on the floor. He tries to focus on the coldness of the marble underneath him as he fights to get his breathing under control. He doesn’t know how long he spends like this, arduously counting his every inhale and exhale... anything to stop erratic thoughts bringing flashes of terror and helplessness evoked by the nightmare.

A rustle and a sigh from the bed startle him before his muddled brain finally recalls an enthusiastic couple he brought to spend the night with him. Shakily he brushes his hand across his face to wipe out tears and sweat as he drags himself up until his chin rests on the edge of the mattress.

Yes, his lovers for this night are still there and they somehow managed to sleep through not only his nightmare but also him falling out of the bed. On the other hand, he exhausted them pretty thoroughly with their activities... It’s good to know his stamina hasn’t left him but regrettably drawing out and fulfilling desires doesn’t feel as enjoyable as before. Sex leaves him feeling oddly hollow.

Be it as it may, he always gets some company on the nights when Michael’s not home. For some reason, the thought of being alone in the penthouse chills him to the bone.

Dejected, he rises with an effort and stumbles his way toward the piano - music always consoles him after nightmares. At the last moment, he remembers it’d be rude to wake up his guests at this ungodly hour so he stills, unsure what to do with himself. Usually, his quiet playing is enough to summon Michael from the depths of the penthouse. His brother has a knack for distracting him from dark moods by chatting about anything and everything.

On multiple occasions, yesterday including, Michael encouraged him to call him at any time, for any reason if he needs him but once more Lucifer decides against it. He’s a big Devil, damn it, he can’t run to his brother like a scared fledgling every time he has a bad dream. There’s no hiding he’s a mess but at least he doesn’t have to be a _clingy _mess... He should be over this long ago anyway.

He scowls darkly as he realizes he’s nervously rubbing his wrist and forces himself to stop. Disgusted with his weakness, he marches to the bar and grabs the first bottle he can reach. He closes his eyes focusing on the burn of alcohol, trying to repress invasive memories of the nightmare. While he and Michael were on their trip, the nightmares were few and far in between but since he returned to LA, they’re like a plague. As always it’s variations of that unfortunate date that haunt him (he studiously avoids looking at the spot where it happened).

Funnily enough, he rarely dreams of Hell. His time there is a bizarrely distorted blur of violence, pain, and despair; he feels distanced from it, almost as if it happened to someone else. Linda explained that the brain, when in the survival mode, focuses on other things than forming memories and additionally now his subconscious suppresses some of them to protect him from further trauma.

It’s just his luck that he remembers what She did in every painful detail and his twisted imagination keeps finding new and creative ways to torment him. It’s almost like his personal Hell-loop (sometimes he wonders if he’s not stuck in one of the cells without even knowing it; the world seems so unreal often enough...).

He’s going to demand a refund from Morpheus, Daniel or however Dream of the Endless calls himself those days. He most definitely hasn’t signed up for this bloody subscription of nightmares, he wants it canceled.

He notices that the sky is starting to turn deep blue announcing incoming down. With a weary sigh, he heads for the shower to get ready for the new day. Sleeping is out of the question anyway.

* * *

The next morning finds Lucifer improvising a slow melody on the piano down in the club. His employees probably would prefer to do an inventory without the boss breathing down their necks but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with stewing in cigarette smoke and brooding as he tries to muster the energy to leave LUX.

Staying still even for a moment had always been something of a challenge in the Great Before, so his current issues with going out are even more disconcerting. Somehow he’s lost his enthusiasm for dealing with the outside world... possibly because so many people ask him how his partner’s doing. He never realized he’s spent so much time gushing over Her that even his more distant acquaintances ask about Her in small talk.

How She’s become a focal point of his existence? And what can he do to stop being haunted by Her everywhere he turns?

He’s so engrossed in his morose musing, he doesn’t even notice the entrance door opening and a small person sneaking inside. Startled “Hey!” from one of the bouncers is his only warning before there’s a blur of a movement and a high-pitched: “Lucifer!”

He almost jumps out of his skin as a tiny projectile attaches itself to him with enough force to nearly throw him off the bench. Lucifer freezes, his muscles trembling with the effort to not react; his heart races at pre-cardiac arrest speed. He absently thinks that he needs to reward the bouncer for giving him a moment to brace himself – without that he would have lashed out reflectively at a sudden assault.

He could have hurt her accidentally. The very notion is unthinkable.

“Hello, Beatrice,” he greets her when he’s sure his voice will sound mostly normal.

“Hi, Lucifer,” says Trixie, giving him a toothy smile. She’s blissfully unaware of how close to the danger she’s come.

Much to his relief, she lets him go, giving him space to breathe. He’s perpetually confused by humankind’s customs regarding touching each other. The rules of what’s appropriate have been varying depending on gender, age, social class, a region of the world and countless other conditions he couldn’t be bothered to remember. And every time he believed he finally had it all figured out a century passed and all norms changed again. It’s just too baffling so he usually allows mortals to dictate the pace...

Right now though, it’d be better for everyone if humans stopped surprising him. For once he’s a _real _threat to them... (he should keep his distance, instead of selfishly risking their safety).

“You’re okay?” asks Trixie, frowning slightly.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he assures quickly, meaning his physical state. After all, aside for momentary palpitations, he’s perfectly fine. Trixie squints at him, evidently not buying this. “You startled me,” he admits finally. “I... I’d prefer if you refrained from doing that in the future.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’s still piercing him with her dark eyes, making Lucifer squirm. Humans are confusing in the best of circumstances and their mini versions are even worse. He’s beyond grateful when one of the waitresses, Julie, approaches them, distracting the spawn from further scrutinizing him.

“Everything’s alright, boss?” she asks.

“Yes, thank you, darling,” he gives her his best dazzling smile. “Could you, please, bring me a whiskey and something appropriate for the lady?”

“Can I have something cool?” chimes in Trixie, giving both Julie and Lucifer her best puppy dog’s eyes.

“We’ll see what we can do,” says amused Julie.

They watch her as she walks toward the bar.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” says Trixie and there’s an accusatory note in her voice. She appears to be upset by the fact that the last time they met was before Cain’s death, well over a half a year before. “Why do you never visit us anymore?”

Lucifer opens his mouth to rattle out the truth and then he closes them with an audible click. How to explain to a ten-year-old that her mommy drugged him in his own home and sent him straight to Hell which came with the usual serving of fresh torment? How to say that something in him still clenches in fear at the mere thought of being anywhere near Her? There’s no way of making any of this sound any less appalling than it is, without outright lying.

He still remembers how he started to lose faith in his Dad... all that distrust and resentment which led to so much pain. Now, as he stares at the vivacious spawn, he realizes he doesn’t want to put her through that too. She’s an innocent and she deserves better than being caught up in such morbid affairs before she even reached puberty. The world will disillusion her soon enough without his help.

He idly wonders what humans tell the offspring of people sentenced to jail.

“Oh, well... for a few months I’ve been traveling with my brother, Michael,” he says, which is technically true and hopefully will distract the spawn from her quest for answers.

“How many siblings do you have?” asks Trixie with a curious glint in her eyes.

“We are Legion for we are many,” intones Lucifer, making her giggle at his antics. “I have more siblings than I know what to do with. We’re not close, though... except for LA’s resident specimens.”

“I wish I had some brothers and sisters,” she muses.

“Oh, believe me, one of you is plenty,” Lucifer shudders as he imagines an entire troop of manipulative dark-eyed spawns marching to conquer the world. The demons are harmless by comparison.

Trixie grins disturbingly widely, utterly terrifying the Devil. Fortunately, Julie reappears with their drinks. They both thank her and the spawn stares in wonder at hers. Lucifer nods in approval as he recognizes it as the Galaxy Mocktail – his employees as always done well.

“This is so awesome!” says delighted Trixie, taking a sip. “So, where you went on your holiday?”

“We started with Australia but then we decided we want to visit other places as well, to see how they changed over time. We’ve been all over the world.”

He smiles fondly remembering all the trouble they got themselves into. As predicted, Michael easily agreed to accompany him but – as a spoiled angelic princeling that he was – he flat out refused to use the human means of transportation. It turned out to be a good idea as it allowed them to instantly appear in any place they fancied.

“Maze says you’ve been back for over a month,” says Trixie reproachfully, harshly bringing him back to reality.

Lucifer curses internally because he should have known that she wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Clever little hellion has been lulling him into a false sense of safety, only to launch another surprise attack.

“Well, I no longer work with the police,” he says evasively. “I’ve been quite busy here, at LUX.”

“Yes, I get that but don’t you want to hang out with us anymore?” she questions and there’s this endlessly sad look in her eyes. They’re large and shimmering with hurt and, damn it all to hell, Lucifer is not equipped to deal with this. At all! “I thought we were friends.”

She just had to go for the jugular, didn’t she? Maze taught her well.

“Child...” he protests softly because causing her pain even inadvertently is unacceptable. “It’s not that I don’t like _you_. I just don’t think your mother and I have much in common anymore.”

She frowns, clearly not happy with his answer.

“But why?”

Lucifer squeezes his eyes tightly shut, willing away daunting memories and emotions they carry. He knows he can’t dwell on them or they’ll consume him like an abyss. There’s an unpleasant heaviness in his chest, accompanied by odd numbness of his limbs. He starts to play mindlessly with his cufflinks.

“She...” he chokes on the words and needs to clear his throat before he can continue. “She’s found out something about me and... and She... hasn’t reacted very well.”

This was an understatement of the millennium. He stares dolefully at his own hands, afraid the spawn will be able to see in his eyes desolation left by her mother.

“Oh, so she's _finally _figured out, you’re the Devil,” gasps Trixie, effectively distracting him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Wait... you _knew_?” he asks incredulously.

Trixie dramatically rolls her eyes at him.

“Duh! From the beginning.”

Lucifer hums thoughtfully. It’s true that the children sometimes are more perceptive than the adults... and the spawn is exceptionally smart. He probably shouldn’t be surprised.

“And you’re fine with that?” he asks doubtfully.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my friend,” shrugs Trixie like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is for her... eh, sweet childish innocence. Lucifer blinks quickly to get himself rid of an odd burning in his eyes. Perhaps, he’s developing allergies now. “Don’t worry if mom has trouble dealing with that... she can be so dim sometimes,” she adds with a cheeky grin. “She still hasn’t figured out I’m hiding a chocolate cake under my bed.”

Lucifer chooses not to disillusion her by saying that both of her parents know about that.

“Can’t you two make up somehow?” she asks with an unusual seriousness on her young face. “She could apologize and do something nice for you. Everything could be as it was before.”

“I’m afraid some things cannot be so easily mended,” he answers bleakly.

He allowed his love for Her to consume him, to became the most important thing in his life... the fires of Hell ruthlessly burned out all of his love and trust. They were such a large part of him that without them he feels like an empty husk... dead inside.

He doesn’t know if She has any regrets over what She put him through... beyond getting herself a one-way ticket to Hell, that is. (Does he even have the right to _want_ Her punished? Surely, what happened wasn’t _that _bad - it’s on him he wasn’t able to handle it better).

“You have pink glitter on the side of your nose,” says suddenly Trixie.

“What?” startled Lucifer blinks at her owlishly.

“Glitter. Here,” she pats her own nose to demonstrate where.

“Bloody Hell!” he curses as he tries to wipe it away, prompting her to giggle.

“You’re making it worse,” she informs him merrily. “Wait, let me...” she reaches with her small, surprisingly not sticky, paw and energetically rubs the side of his nose. He endures her ministrations without even moving a muscle. “Okay, that’s better but you’re still sort of shiny,” she says, eying her handiwork critically. “How did it even end up on you?”

“It’s all Mike’s fault,” he complains, trying and failing to sound offended instead of amused.

He launches into a tale how he ambushed his twin this morning when Michael finally reappeared after his night of debauchery. The stunned look on his face, when he suddenly found himself covered from head to toe in pink glitter, was priceless. Unfortunately, Lucifer hadn’t thought his plan through, namely, he forgot to consider the merits of a tactical retreat. It took his brother entire ten seconds to recover, before he retaliated by bear-hugging the Devil and effectively smearing the blasted glitter all over him too.

They both ended up shining like tacky decorations at someone’s sweet sixteen. Cleaning up the accursed thing took ages and then – much to Lucifer’s consternation – Michael announced he needs to go or he’ll be late for his classes. At his protests that there’s still plenty of glitter on him, he only shrugged and said he’ll just have to channel his inner Tinker-Bell for the rest of the day.

And then he flew off leaving Lucifer with this truly ghastly mental image...

“The green of Tinker-Bell’s dress would clash abominably with this shade of pink, damn it,” Lucifer finishes his tale of woe. “He’s hopelessly fashion-challenged. How we’re even related is a mystery.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad combo,” muses Trixie, her eyes glistering. “Especially on wings.”

“I beg your pardon,” sputters Lucifer because such suggestion regarding angelic wings surely counts as blasphemy. Some people went to Hell for less. “Have you inherited your fashion sense from your father?”

The spawn smiles beatifically and he suddenly realizes something, he should think of before.

“Do your parents even know you’re here?” he asks.

Trixie’s progressively more innocent smile is an answer enough and with a sigh, he calls Daniel who, as it happens, already races toward LUX. He’s relieved to hear his miscreant of a daughter is safe and sound, and he even thanks Lucifer for keeping an eye on her. Some time ago Ella convinced him to go to the therapy and since then his douchiness subsided to an acceptable level; he even stopped blaming the Devil for Charlotte’s death.

As they wait for his arrival, Lucifer thinks that the world has truly become a strange place since he’d gladly take Daniel’s company over that of his ex-wife.

* * *

As it turns out Michael and Trixie aren’t the only ones having trouble with fashion.

“This is atrocious,” rants Lucifer. “Pink is a perfectly respectable color but even I know that not all of the pregnant humans want to wear it.”

“Right?” exclaims Linda. “And what’s with all of these dresses and shirts looking like shower curtains?”

He makes an outraged noise of agreement. After their session, Linda dragged him for a shopping trip, claiming she needs some new clothes and he’s the most qualified person to advise her on her quest. When she pointed out her other options for this position, he had to agree – the vision of Amenadiel’s attempts at that almost gave him a migraine... and it only went downhill from there.

“I had no idea it’s so hard to hunt down something aesthetically pleasing and comfortable when you’re pregnant,” he muses as he parks the Corvette near the Doctor’s house.

“Believe me, it is,” says Linda with a weary sight. “Thank you, Lucifer. Your company as always was a pleasure.”

He gives her a small smile as he opens the car door for her.

“Always at your service, dear Doctor.”

They had some trouble finding anything pretty enough for his favorite psychologist but in the end, they managed to accumulate enough bags to sink the Titanic. Getting them all from the Corvette’s trunk to the entrance of Linda’s house takes some creativity and juggling.

They’re congratulating themselves on their success when they hear a crash from inside the house. They exchange anxious glances and lean into the door, trying to discern what’s going on behind them. Once again they look at each other in dismay when they hear some muffled yelling.

Linda quickly opens the door and Lucifer enters first, ready to shield her from any danger.

What he didn’t expect was to see Amenadiel trashing on the floor, yelling obscenities at extremely amused Michael who sits on his back, pinning him down. Maze’s sprawled on the couch as she watches the angels wrestling, she’s even munching popcorn.

“Bloody Hell,” mutters relieved Lucifer. For a moment there he was worried, they’re facing either angels or demons’ infestation but it’s only the local talent show. If this was a serious fight, Maze would interfere, instead of enjoying the spectacle.

“Oh, hi... wanna start a betting pool?” she chortles, shooting him a glance.

“What’s going on?” asks Linda, peeking from behind him.

Instead of answering, Lucifer drags Michael away from Amenadiel who immediately shots up to his feet. Apparently, he’s ready to start another round but Linda rests a hand on his chest successfully keeping him in place. It doesn’t stop him from glaring daggers at his younger brother. The Devil preemptively grabs his twin by the collar of his shirt but thankfully he seems docile enough... aside for looking as smug as a cat who just signed the ownership deed of a catnip plantation.

Aghast he notices that there’s still a lot of pink glitter on Michael... and Amenadiel is suspiciously shiny too after prolonged exposure. Trust his idiot twin to not give a damn that he’s all sparkling and to spread the thing all over the town like a bloody virus.

“Alright. Anyone cares to explain what’s going on?” asks Linda sternly, taking command over the situation.

“He ate my muffins!” explodes Amenadiel, clenching his fists in futile anger.

“I’m sorry... he did _what _now?” frowns Lucifer, blinking quickly in disbelief. He shakes his head to make sure he’s heard that right. Judging by his eldest brother’s outraged tone, he caught Michael at setting an orphanage on fire while simultaneously drowning crying kittens in acid.

“He ate my muffins,” repeats Amenadiel, looking as if he were about to cry.

Maze cackles loudly in the background and Michael’s shaking with barely contained laughter.

“Oh yes, and what splendid muffins they were,” he gushes, evidently baiting the older archangel. “So deliciously soft and full of rich chocolate goodness. And this raspberry stuffing... the perfect blend of sweetness and tartness. They were something truly extraordinary.”

“By the sound of it, you just ate your one true love,” says Maze.

“Well, at least we’re united in a very profound way,” grins Michael.

Amenadiel makes a mournful noise and tries to launch another attempt at tackling his younger brother but one glance from Linda stops him in his tracks. She gives Lucifer a look that is a mix of amusement and exasperation. The situation truly spiraled out of control if he’s deemed as the other the most mature person here... (on the other hand, he's rather superfluous element here. He doesn’t fit with them, not the way he is now.)

“I’m sure some wars were fought over less than such a heinous crime,” Linda says dryly. “How do we call it? A muffin-cide?”

Lucifer watches the unfolding ridiculousness with a smirk. They make quite a picture squabbling like children... (At first, he doesn’t notice a slowly growing cold feeling in the pit of his stomach but then the next thought turns his blood into ice. He’s only imposing himself on them as something entirely redundant among them. He should leave instead of hanging on them like a parasite.

It’s generous of them to try to include him but they’d be happier without being forced to deal with his drama. There’s no hiding from them he’s damaged goods. They know how naively he allowed himself to be deceived... they know about his ensuing breakdown. No amount of charm can make them forget how utterly useless and pathetic he is.

It’d be easier to push the whole debacle out of his mind if almost everyone in his life couldn’t see behind the shiny façade he puts up...)

He closes his eyes and counts his breaths, struggling against the stifling tightness in his chest. They’ve been over this with Linda – he really should recognize destructive thoughts patterns sooner, before they’ve spiraled out of control. The problem is, now he feels too cold and numb to bring himself to see the world in a more positive light.

“Keep an eye on your angel and I’ll deal with mine.”

Lucifer blinks dazedly because a little too late he realizes Linda is talking to him. He failed to notice how the situation progressed without his participation. Now Maze’s inspecting the bags they’ve brought and Amenadiel sulks on the couch like a disgruntled toddler. He still glowers at Michael when he thinks the Doctor can’t see him.

How he’s lost the last few minutes, he has no idea.

“Right,” he says. “I probably should be going.”

“You won’t stay for dinner?” asks Linda, getting concerned.

“No. I’m afraid, I have few things to do at LUX,” he answers automatically. Recently it’s his favorite excuse.

He feels too exposed among them and in his current mood he wouldn’t be entertaining enough company anyway. It’s better if he’ll just leave.

“I’ll be going to,” says Michael. “Preferably before Amenadiel finds a way to murder me with a spoon or something.”

If looks could kill, the one Amenadiel gives him would have him buried six feet under, with flowers and a gravestone on top. It also proves his point so, after a quick round of goodbyes, they both leave.

“You’re okay?” asks Michael when they’re alone in front of the house.

“Of course,” Lucifer smiles insincerely and promptly dashes to the Corvette before his twin can voice any doubts about that.

Michael took to the life on earth like a fish to the water but it’d be better for him if he hasn’t been spending so much time worrying about his messed up brother. He should be able to enjoy his freshly gained freedom without a burden like this. Not that he’s ever said or done anything to indicate that – quite to the contrary – but it doesn’t stop Lucifer from waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After all, who in their right mind could still want him, even though they know _everything_ about him?

He’s ready to take off by the time Michael joins him in the car at a more sedated pace. He drives off probably a bit too fast, pretending to not feel concerned dark eyes on him.

“Hey, want a muffin?” asks suddenly the archangel after they’ve joined the traffic.

“What?”

Lucifer takes his eyes off the road to look at his twin who smiles impishly and presents him with his spoils of war in the form of a chocolate muffin.

“How do you even have it?” marvels the Devil. “I thought you ate them all.”

“Oh, please, a small illusion and a bit of distraction, and here we are,” says Michael, as proud as if he singlehandedly slew a fierce dragon, instead of stealing baked goods from their older brother. “And I ate only one... I rescued the other for you,” Lucifer just stares at him unblinkingly. “Unless you don’t want it?” asks Michael looking slightly crestfallen.

Against himself, the Devil barks out laughter at his ludicrousness.

“You’re such an idiot...” he snickers, snatching the muffin. He takes a large bite before his brother decides he wants it for himself. “Gods above and below, it’s delicious!”

“Right?” Michael visibly brightens up at his reaction. “They were Amenadiel’s reward for agreeing to join the pottery classes. Linda decided to use them as a sweet incentive for positive behavior.”

“Well, if she were giving those to me, I’d agree to pretty much everything, storming the Gates of Heaven including,” says Lucifer, relishing the appropriated muffin.

“Definitely worthy battling enraged Amenadiel,” agrees smugly Michael.

By the time they’re back at LUX, Lucifer’s mood lightens up a bit. Sadly, it doesn't stop him from feeling embarrassed by his hasty departure. He needs to make up for it somehow and he's not thrilled with a perspective of discussing the whole thing with Linda, either.

They enter the club which, at this time, is full of music and people. Everything appears to be perfectly ordinary so it takes Lucifer a moment to realize that Michael froze suddenly, staring at something fixedly. The Devil glances back at him and tenses immediately in response to his darkened expression.

Something’s not right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know a thing about non-alcoholic drinks so I just gave Trixie a pretty one. Here it is if you want to see: 
> 
> https://www.frugalmomeh.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/The-Galaxy-Mocktail-15.jpg


	3. The Truth Beneath the Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe struggles with her celestial infestation. Lucifer shows his more devilish side. Trixie is Trixie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update but depression has been kicking my ass lately and I couldn’t motivate myself to write. 
> 
> The credit for the chapter title belongs to Within Temptation. 
> 
> The Bible quote is from Deuteronomy 5:9 Revised Standard Version (RSV)

Chloe tiredly enters her mother’s house. As always those days, she stayed late at work – well, as long as the precinct was busting with activity anyway. She figured that the presence of other people offers at least a modicum of safety. She has no idea though what she would do if her personal ‘guardian angel’ approached her in front of her colleagues.

Perhaps it’s fatigue but it takes her embarrassingly long to notice there’s a line of light spilling through the half-closed door to Trixie’s room. She blinks dumbly, thinking that her daughter’s probably getting ready for the bed.

And then it occurs to her that Trixie’s still at Dan’s.

In one swift move, she unholsters her gun, not taking her eyes from the door even for a moment. Her heart beats somewhere in her throat as she sneaks through the darkened interior of the house.

One peek inside reveals the identity of the interloper.

“Get out of my daughter’s room!” she snarls, barely recognizing her own voice.

The angel turns toward her unhurriedly and stares down the barrel of her gun. She notices he holds a picture of her and Trixie, which he’s been studying until she barged in. Everything in her boils in cold fury – harassing her is one thing, dragging her daughter into this is a different matter entirely.

“Go ahead,” he says dispassionately. “Shoot. But better be prepared for consequences.”

Chloe swallows harshly, squeezing the gun with shaking hands. She remembers all too well the last time she tried to shoot an angel and how the only thing she achieved was pissing him off. A combination of fear, anger, and helplessness makes her nauseated.

“Leave Trixie alone,” she says, slowly lowering her useless gun. “Please.”

The angel just stares at her with austere eyes.

“That depends entirely on you,” he informs her. “We have been prepared to treat you as a faithful servant but you have proven yourself truculent. It cannot be tolerated anymore. Our Father is a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation. You are courting His wrath.”

Chloe stares at him for a moment and then the horror of the situation fully downs on her.

“No,” she gasps. “You can’t hurt her! She has nothing to do with this,” her voice breaks and she has to blink quickly to get herself rid of tears.

“I am the one who slaughtered the firstborn of Egypt, the men, and the beast,” says the angel, his face a mask of indifference. “One child or even a hundred of children is of _no consequence_ when the fulfillment of Lord’s plan is at stake.”

“Please...” whispers Chloe. “What I have to do?”

“You know what you have to do,” he says. “Cooperate and perhaps the leniency will be shown.”

The angel flies off, not waiting for her replay. Chloe’s legs give up under her, leaving her crumpled on the floor.

* * *

Lucifer tenses up in an anticipation of a confrontation with whatever startled Michael. He quickly scans the crowd of LUX patrons in a search of anything incongruous... like for example a flock of grim angels ready to deliver divine justice on apostates.

He’s been expecting that since Gabriel made an appearance soon after Lucifer’s return from Hell. The complacent bastard informed them that he’s taking over Michael’s former position and all three of them need to repent for their transgressions. He explained that the Devil is expected to immediately return to Hell and the other two must debase and humble themselves in atonement if they ever want to earn Father’s forgiveness.

In response, they informed Gabriel where precisely he can shove his dire warnings and so he flew off in a huff but not before promising that they can expect their punishment soon. It’s been half a year since then and (aside for Remiel’s memorable visit) they haven’t seen hide nor feather of any angels. By now Heaven’s silence became downright ominous; the suspense makes Lucifer restless.

The problem is that now he can’t spot anything unusual in the club. He extends all of his senses but he and Michael are the only celestials on the premise. As far as he can tell, there are no demons nor other paranormal entities in LUX, only dancing and drinking humans.

Frustrated and ready to explode from tension, he gives Michael a perplexed glance, only to discover he glares at a group of people near the bar.

“What’s going on?” he asks finally, giving up on detecting the threat on his own.

“This guy,” says Michael still staring unblinkingly at the same group as before. His lips twist slightly in disgust. “His soul is rotten.”

“Oh for love of Dad!” exclaims Lucifer, torn between relief and desire to strangle his brother. “Mike, you fluff-feathered kite!”

He’s been mentally preparing himself for some morbid possibilities like battling the Host’s finest while simultaneously trying to avoid hurting any humans and it turns out the whole drama is only about some insignificant _mortal_. And they say he’s the drama queen of the family...

“Sorry,” mutters sheepishly Michael, finally realizing he accidentally gave his brother quite a scare. He apologetically touches his shoulder. “But he’s an exceptionally despicable specimen, believe me.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but gives the man a thoughtful look – he doesn’t seem like anything much, just an average looking guy in his twenties. Still, if Michael is leery of someone, he usually has good reasons for that, thanks to his ability to see souls and the stain left on them by misdeeds. In particular, hurting others inevitably leads to rot, completely independent of guilt.

“What’s he done?” asks Lucifer.

It’s more than just curiosity on his part – he’s responsible for the safety of LUX’s patrons and staff, after all. He can’t ignore a possible predator among them.

“By the looks of it, he’s a murderer and a slaver... a human trafficker. He’s done other things as well,” Michael doesn’t even try to hide his revulsion. He’s as apt at sensing and discerning transgressions as Lucifer is at drawing out desires but this man must be a rare specimen indeed, to capture his undivided attention in a club full of people. “I hope you won’t mind if I have a little ‘chat’ with him?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he moves toward the group but Lucifer’s hand on his arm stops him.

“So he’s a scum of the worst sort,” says the Devil slowly, eying the man contemplatively.

Michael nods, bemused why he stopped him. They ran into some abhorrent individuals before and the archangel delighted in putting some fear of God into them. Of course, nothing as dramatic as condemning them to Hell – that is reserved for special cases only – but a hint of wings and glowing, white eyes were more than enough for this purpose.

Lucifer hasn’t interfered before... but this vile man is invading his home. And it’s high time to bring back the Devil.

“I’ll deal with him,” he announces before he can’t lose his nerve.

“Alright,” agrees Michael who looks surprised but also pleased with this development. “Do you want me there as moral support?”

Lucifer nods jerkily and takes a deep breath.

“Yes. Wait in the penthouse.”

Michael grins at him and swiftly makes his way to the elevator. Lucifer watches him for a moment and then he squares his shoulders and puts on his brightest smile, hoping it doesn’t look too spurious. His heart hammers in anticipation of what he’s about to do.

He hasn’t summoned his Devil face since he managed to return to his angelic looks. He’s been stuck in the infernal shape all those ages in Hell and beyond, and now some part of him fears that once unleashed, it won’t recede. It’s another of the things, he refused to discuss with Linda. He didn’t want to dissect his devilish Schrödinger's cat and find out that perhaps his irrational fear isn’t so unfounded after all.

Still... after an emotional roller-coaster of this day, he feels like he needs to prove he’s not a hopeless case and what’s more natural for the Devil than punishing the evil? It’s a part of him that he needs to reclaim and he’s going to do it _now_. Preferably while avoiding dwelling on the subject or the doubts will kill his determination.

He pushes down his nervousness as he marches to the group pointed out by Michael. It doesn’t take him long to find out that the man’s name is Julian McCaffrey and that he’s a supercilious weasel. It’s a child’s play to use his vanity and sense of entitlement to convince him that he deserves a more exclusive party upstairs.

“So what do you have in mind?” asks Julian when they’re finally in the penthouse, away from his retinue. He doesn’t notice Michael lurking somewhere near the bar.

“Oh I don’t know...” purrs Lucifer. “What do you desire?”

Without preamble, he turns his power to the maximum effect. Once upon a time, he would have prolonged this game of cat and mouse for his own entertainment. Right now though, he just wants to bring Julian’s dark deeds to the light and then punish him... and see if he still has it in him.

“I...” Julian stares at Lucifer transfixed; his mental barriers are falling one after another. “I want recognition.”

“How come?” pushes the Devil silkily.

“My dad shouldn’t have excluded me from the family business,” continues Justin. Lucifer can tell there’s plenty of boiling resentment in him, ready to explode. It doesn’t take much for him to start spitting the words like venom. “He knows, I’m better than him and that’s why he tries to push me down because he’s afraid of me. He knows I’d surpass him in no time.”

“Oh really?” drawls Lucifer, subtly intensifying his influence. “And what have you done to show him that? Maybe a little murder... or human trafficking, hm?”

There’s a cold, reptilian look in Julian’s eyes that makes Lucifer’s skin crawl. Well, scratch that... the reptiles, unlike humans, are not malicious – they only act accordingly to their nature.

“Whatever’s necessary,” confesses Julian coldly. “I have great plans and if some fool stands in my way... well...” he scoffs. “They basically ask for what they get. In case you never figured it out, there are only two kinds of people in this world: the wolves and the sheep. The latter are made to be preyed upon, they’re nothing but _meaningless, broken dolls_ anyway. If you _allow_ for bad things to happen to you, you don’t deserve anything better.”

Lucifer blinks quickly, breaking their connection. He can’t stand to look at Julian even a second longer; bile is churning in his stomach.

Abruptly released from the hold of the Devil’s power, Justin takes few shaky steps away from him.

“What the hell, dude?” he exclaims when it downs on him what he just admitted.

Lucifer looks at Michael who watches the unfolding drama like a hawk but still hasn’t moved from his place. Their eyes meet and the archangel raises one eyebrow in a silent question if he wants him to step in. The Devil takes a deep breath and shakes his head – he has to deal with this on his own, he can’t back down. If he fails, he probably won’t make another attempt for the next few centuries.

“I’m outta here!” shouts agitated Julian, completely ignoring the wordless exchange between brothers. “I don’t know what you did but I’m going to sue you so hard that...”

He never gets to finish that sentence because Lucifer grabs him by the front of his shirt, keeping him in place. He opens his mouth to protest but whatever he was about to say gets stuck in his throat when the black-brown of the Devil’s eyes turns into a fiery red.

Lucifer gives him his most psychopathic smile as he reaches to a part of himself that’s normally hidden deep down in his soul. He brings forth the infernal terror, deliberately slowly allowing his true form – scarred and terrible – to surface. The shadows darken and the lights dim; the burning eyes of the Devil hypnotize the petrified human, making looking away impossible.

Julian screeches like a banshee and jerks away violently, ungracefully landing on his ass.

“Oh what a brave little wolf you are,” mocks Lucifer making a step toward him. “It never occurred to you that there are worse things in this world than you, hm? That someone might turn you into a frightened sheep? Take advantage of your _vulnerability_?” he almost growls the last part and his eyes flash brighter.

“What... what are you?” Julian’s voice is so high, it’d be hilarious in different circumstances.

With serpentine grace, Lucifer grabs him and drags him up to his feet, until their faces are inches apart.

“I’m the Devil,” he snarls. “And I’ve always abhorred slavers, rapists and all those who take away the free will of others... who believe they have the right to destroy lives, to break the spirits of their victims,” he cackles somewhat maniacally. “Take my word on it, there’s an especially hot place in Hell for those like you. I’ve personally made sure of it.”

“Please... please, don’t!” cries Julian. His face is pasty white like a moon and shiny with sweat; all of his previous cockiness gone without a trace.

Lucifer can see his own distorted, monstrous reflection in his wide eyes. Suddenly he feels very tired and just wishes this to be over. He roughly pushes away quivering human, making him once again fall to the floor. He struggles with the need to wipe out his hands as if he touched something slimy and disgusting.

“You will go to the nearest police precinct,” commands Lucifer – he wants this man to be gone from his vicinity. He can’t look at him anymore. “You will confess _all_ of your crimes and give them the information they need to help your victims. You won’t withhold anything... Oh, and no lawyers, obviously,” he pins Julian with heavy gaze, icy despite flames dancing in his eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” squeaks Julian.

“Good. And remember, I know who you are, so don’t try to weasel your way out of this like a cockroach that you are. You won’t like what I’ll do to you then,” Lucifer shows all teeth in a predatory grin. “Now get out of my sight.”

Julian doesn’t waste any time as he bolts toward the elevator on all fours. He presses the button frantically and stares at Lucifer unblinkingly until the doors close.

The Devil sighs relieved he doesn’t have to see this human stain any longer and mentally prepares himself for the battle that’s yet to come. He focuses on his hellish visage trying to push it down to its hiding place. For one horrific moment, nothing changes but then something shifts and once again he looks like an angel.

He slumps, almost dizzy with relief. He’s glad to officially regain control of his Devil face – it’s simultaneously his shame and his pride. Sure, it marks him as a monster but it’s also a reminder that he stood up to God Almighty Himself and lived to tell the tale... even if he paid a cruel price for it.

“Good job, little brother,” praises Michael and hands him a glass full of whiskey.

Lucifer takes it gratefully and downs almost half of it in one gulp.

“I butchered it,” he confesses somberly and stalks to the balcony. He needs fresh air... well, at least, as fresh as pollution in LA allows.

“Why do you say that?” asks Michael, following him. “What was your goal here?”

“To punish him,” Lucifer utters through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you did,” he says matter-of-factly. “What else have you accomplished here?”

The Devil glowers, knowing immediately what game he’s playing at. He also knows that no amount of glaring – no matter how withering – will be able to discourage him.

“His victims will get justice, I suppose,” he admits. Michael only raises an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. Irate Lucifer rolls his eyes dramatically but relents. “Fine, some of them might still be saved and he won’t hurt anyone again. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Michael remains annoyingly unruffled by Lucifer’s biting tone. “Plus, your devilformation went rather smoothly. So why do you think you butchered it?”

“The human justice system is corrupt and insufficient,” he says bitterly. He’s seen examples of that far too many times to have any faith in it. “I should have punished him _personally_.”

Julian is more than deserving of any cruelty the Devil has in his repertoire and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do anything worse. The mere perspective makes him feel as if he were about to throw up.

“Why it should be your responsibility?” pushes Michael.

“Because it’s what the Devil does,” he insists since apparently both of them need this reminder.

“You are the Devil,” his brother just shrugs. “So?”

Lucifer gives him another incensed glare, angry that he needs to explain something that every child in this world knows.

“Because it’s _what_ I am,” he snaps. “The Punisher, a torturer. If I won’t do this...” he stops abruptly, too choked to speak. He’s been made into a monster terrible enough to scare other monsters; he should, at least, put it to good use or all that pain will be for nothing.

“If you won’t do anything, humans will keep killing each other... as they’ve always done since Cain and Abel,” says Michael. “Even Dad failed at training them out of this habit. Don’t take it as a personal criticism but I sincerely doubt you’d be more successful in this endeavor.”

“Be serious,” grumbles Lucifer, not impressed with his facetiousness.

“I am. You’re not personally responsible for making sure everyone gets justice,” points out Michael. “And besides, the last time I checked, you’re the first rebel. You were never fond of doing things just because you allegedly supposed to.”

Lucifer closes his eyes, feeling completely drained of energy. At the same time, he’s oddly relieved.

“It’s what _you_ think I should do?” he asks softly. “Just stop being the Devil... ‘no pressure to return to something that doesn’t feel right’ as Linda says?”

He opens his eyes when Michael lightly touches his arm.

“I think it’s your _choice_ to make,” he says gently. “It’s your decision if you’ll keep punishing wrongdoers and how far you’re willing to go while you’re at it. It’s completely irrelevant what I think, or Dad, or anyone else for that matter. Only what works the best for you.”

“I couldn’t care less what people think of me,” Lucifer announces dully.

“Do you?”

Lucifer scowls halfheartedly, feeling chagrined. He doesn’t care what the general populace thinks of him... At least, as long as they don’t call him evil straight to his face or blame him for all of their little problems... death, taxes, global warming, Trump and so on.

The thing is, there are few people he’d rather keep in his life indefinitely but they’re not making this easy as none of them told him what they _expect_ in exchange. It puts him on edge because he long since learned that nothing is for free and it’s better to be needed than wanted – a certain policewoman reminded him of this recently.

He gives Michael a despairing look and then quickly lowers his eyes, wishing he just told him what conditions he needs to fulfill. His expression must be telling it all because in response his twin closes the distance between them and envelops him in a tight hug. Lucifer makes a small noise of protest and promptly melts into his embrace.

“Luci... I only want to spend some time with my favorite sibling, away from Silver City,” mutters Michael. “I have no intention of going anywhere and neither does Linda or Maze... or even Amenadiel. We’re here for you.”

Lucifer doesn’t respond, too choked up to speak. After some time the tension accumulated through the day slowly leaches out, replaced by warmth. He lets himself enjoy the moment while it lasts before he reluctantly straightens up and takes a step back.

“Right. Do you ever miss it?” asks Lucifer, determined to pretend that the emotional moment didn’t happen. “Silver City, ordering around an army of angels?” he clarifies at Michael’s puzzled look.

“You mean, managing Dad’s flying monkey freak-show to the accompaniment of the best in the whole universe choir of sycophants?” scoffs the archangel derisively. “No, I can’t say that I do. Gabriel can have my former job with my blessing. Let’s hope, that with Daddy dearest breathing down his neck every second of the day, the poor thing won’t dissolve into a stress-induced molt.”

“You’re such a dick,” Lucifer chortles, amused against himself.

“So I’ve been told multiple times,” agrees cheerfully Michael. “I’m doing my best.”

“What about the souls, though?” asks Lucifer sobering up. “The guilt based system is far from being equitable. Do you think Dad will do anything about that, now that neither of us is supervising it?”

“I don’t think He cares, to be honest,” says the archangel grimly. “But it’s no longer my job to clean up the family’s messes. After almost fourteen billion years of trying I’m ready to admit, I can’t change a thing in this world and so I concede defeat. I’m done. I don’t owe Heaven _anything_.”

Lucifer’s lips twitch unhappily. He wishes he could share his brother’s self-assuredness but, try as he might, he can’t absolve himself so easily from the lingering guilt. Without his oversight, Hell runs rampant – the demons are soulless sadists, after all. They don’t care if they torture someone akin to Hitler or just some poor sod who ended up in the basement of the creation because of misplaced guilt. He knows for a fact that no one bothered to fix this since his abdication.

No matter how rotten it all makes him feel, he has no intention of ever going back to Hell... especially since it was empirically proven that he can’t do that without sacrificing his own sanity. Punishing evildoers on earth at least helped him feel less like a failure.

“_You_ don’t owe anyone anything either, you know. Definitely not after all the time you spent rotting in Hell,” says Michael. “You’ve given too much of yourself as it is... In your situation, I’d probably start the Apocalypse out of spite alone and yet you roped me into smuggling souls to Heaven, instead. It’s remarkable that you were able to find the light even in Hell. You have no idea how much I admire you for it.”

Much to his embarrassment, Lucifer blushes like a Victorian maiden on her wedding night.

“It’s not that hard when you feel their desire for redemption or more pain because it’s what they feel they deserve,” he protests after he’s done sputtering. It was actually one of the things that made his stay in Hell so taxing – the overwhelming hopelessness of the damned and pressure to lighten it up somehow. He decided it’s high time to change the subject. “You know, earlier when you were doing your impression of the narcotic dog for corrupted souls, I thought Gabriel popped down for another chat. What the hell is taking them so long to act?”

“I don’t know,” says Michael with a frown. He purses his lips thoughtfully, absently staring at LA’s nightscape. “But I bet my wings, we’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

The next afternoon finds Chloe sitting in her living room. She stares fixedly at her gun lying on the coffee table as if it held answers to secrets of the universe. For life of her, she can’t figure out how she was able to shot Lucifer that one time, but the other angels she had a misfortune to encounter were completely unfazed by it.

The ritual she performed with father Kinley is the only known to her way of deposing of an angel. Not that it’s in any way helpful – luring one of them into a trap, without an advantage of them trusting her, is nigh-impossible.

The perspective of praying to her ‘guardian angel’ makes her feel sick but what choice does she have after he threatened her daughter?

She groans and buries her face in her shaking hands. She rubs her temples, fighting worsening headache which is a predictable result of no sleep at all and far too much industrial-strength coffee. Half of a bottle of wine didn’t help either. She’s been stewing in her anxiety and fear since he left; her thoughts are racing like a hamster in a wheel, going through the same ideas over and over again.

There’s no way out.

She almost jumps out of her skin when the door suddenly bursts open. She looks up frantically only to see Trixie and Dan who both stand frozen in the entrance. Chloe self-consciously straightens up, suddenly aware she probably looks like a mess.

“Um, monkey, why don’t you go to your room and... do your homework, okay?” says Dan, eying Chloe. “Mommy and daddy need to talk for a moment.”

It’s telling that Trixie doesn’t even try to argue about being excluded from the adult drama and just runs to her bedroom. As soon as she’s out of sight, Dan grabs Chloe’s gun, checks if the safety is on and then promptly hides it in the safe. He throws an anxious glance in direction where Trixie disappeared off and proceeds to unceremoniously drag Chloe to the den.

“Chloe, what in fresh hell?” he hisses when they’re off from the hearing-range of small ears.

“Dan, calm down. Everything’s fine,” she says trying to sound confident.

“Really?” he asks disbelievingly. “So we didn’t just walk in on you staring at your gun and...” his eyes fall on a half-empty wine bottle. “And you’ve been drinking. It’s not even 4 pm, Chloe. Everything’s most definitely _not_ fine.”

Chloe grits her teeth because when he puts it like this it sounds pretty damning.

“You’re making way too much out of it,” she snaps. “I just had a rough night, that’s all.”

“You didn't show up at work today, even though normally it takes a direct order from the lieutenant for you to have a sick day,” pushes Dan with an air of someone who tries his best to stay calm. “And you’ve completely forgotten I’m bringing Trixie, haven’t you?”

“Look, I have a lot on my mind,” she says impatiently. “I know, I’ve been distracted this last few months but I have everything under control.”

Dan purses his lips, clearly struggling to not say what he’s thinking, then he shakes his head tiredly.

“Chloe, there’s _no way_ I’m leaving Trixie _alone_ with you when you’re like this,” he says finally.

These words are like a punch to the gut but then the resignation settles. It’s actually a good thing if their daughter stays with him until Chloe deals with her celestial infestation. Yes, that’s good.

“Okay,” she nods quickly. “You should take her.”

Dan gives her a flummoxed look.

“And you’re not even going to argue?” he asks, apparently getting even more disturbed. “Chloe, what’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble? Please, talk to me, maybe I can help.”

She glares at him because this whole situation is hard on her as it is, without his input. It’s not as if she could just tell him that she’s struggling with angels. Unlike some people, which shall not be named, she doesn’t have burning eyes or wings to show as proof whenever she wants. If she told Dan the truth, he’d probably send her to a loony bin. And even if by some miracle he believed her, what could he do against an angel? Arrest him for stalking?

“It’s none of your concern, Dan” she informs him coldly.

“None of my concern...” he repeats incredulously. “I’d like to think that even after everything we’re friends and yes, I am concerned,” he takes a deep breath. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk to me but you really should confide in someone. I can tell that something is eating you alive.”

“Well, thank you for the advice,” she says dismissively. “But, as I said, what I’m doing is none of your business.”

Dan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s most definitely my business when it starts to affect _our_ daughter_,_” he finally says. “You’re barely spending any time with her at all and don’t think for a second she doesn’t notice when you’re... acting off,” he levels her with a hard look. “For the love of Christ, last week she asked me if she’s done something to make you mad at her. This can’t go on.”

Chloe sees red.

“Oh, this is precious coming from you,” she growls. “Need I remind you that not so long ago you couldn’t be bothered to grace us with your presence at stupid Taco Thursdays? Do you have any idea how many times I had to explain to our daughter you couldn’t read her bedtime story because you had more important things to do? Now I have a few crappy months and you immediately assume you can just barge in with righteous anger?”

Dan blanches and shrinks under an onslaught of her sharp words but then – much to her surprise – he strengthens up.

“I’ve made mistakes and I’m still trying to fix them,” he admits with surprising calm. “Are you really going to throw this in my face every time we argue?”

“I’m just pointing out some facts you seem awfully eager to dismiss,” she says darkly. “After all, you weren’t there to see the aftermath.”

“True, but it doesn’t make it alright for you to do the same to her,” Dan point outs stubbornly. “I’m telling you that your behavior is affecting her. I mean... yesterday she ran away to visit Lucifer.”

“What?” Chloe screeches at a truly ungodly pitch.

“Thank God, she just went to hang out with someone _harmless_, instead of doing something dangerous,” prattles on Dan. “But what if the next time...”

He never gets to elaborate what he thinks will happen because Chloe just dissolves into rather hysterical laughter. Her oblivious ex-husband has no fucking idea how utterly wrong he is on all accounts... and now he stares at her as if she were deranged.

Well, she doesn’t care about that – she just leaves him standing there like an idiot and marches straight to her daughter’s room.

“Hi, monkey. How are you doing?” she says as she enters. Trixie throws her a sideways look and only shrugs. Chloe winces when a bit too late occurs to her that she undoubtedly picked up on the tension between her and Dan. She hates when people argue over her but at least she doesn’t cover her ears with her hands anymore. Still, she needs to deal with something else first. “So your dad tells me you went to visit Lucifer, is that right?”

Trixie shrugs again, extremely focused on her coloring book. Chloe fights the urge to shake her because she can’t discern her wellbeing when she won’t even look at her properly.

“Are you okay?” she asks finally. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He explained _why_ he doesn’t spend any time with us anymore,” answers Trixie, watching her through her lashes.

“Oh...”

Chloe feels as if the wind were knocked out of her. Lucifer is pathologically determined to tell truth, especially in situations when he should shut up. Of course, he must have babbled out what happened, probably not sparing any gory details. Expecting him to care that he’s talking to a ten-year-old is evidently too much.

She’s suddenly furious with him because turning her daughter against her would be perfect revenge, wouldn’t it?

“Ah, you know Lucifer, he loves to exaggerate,” she says with a forced levity; she nods decisively to make herself appear more convincing. “You remember the time when he was acting like the world was ending because he got some grease on his suit, right?” She forces a chuckle at the memory. “I only... ‘convinced’ him to have a short trip to... ah, his former workplace to make sure everyone is safe, okay? It’s not such a big deal.”

Trixie is staring at her without even blinking.

“He only said that you don’t like him anymore because you’ve found out, he’s the Devil,” she informs her.

Chloe feels her mouth fall open. She’s not sure what shocked her more – Lucifer’s surprisingly diplomatic approach or the fact that her ten-year-old kid played her like a fiddle to learn what happened. Apparently, her explanations that Lucifer is just busy weren’t very convincing.

“Wait...” she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You _know_ he’s the Devil?” she asks disbelievingly.

“Yup, I’m ten not stupid,” Trixie says in a tone she reserves for things she considers obvious. “The girl he scared that first day... I asked her what she saw. She told me about his eyes,” she elaborates when Chloe just gapes at her. “And later Maze showed me her face. It’s not that hard to put pieces together.”

“Huh,” hums stunned Chloe as the coherent speech momentarily abandoned her. She’s a detective and yet even a child figured out Lucifer’s secret before her. “And you weren’t afraid?” she breathes.

Trixie gives her a look as if she were insane.

“Why should I be?” she asks. “He’s my friend and he only punishes very bad people. So what do _I_ have to be scared of?”

“What indeed,” whispers Chloe.

She doesn’t have time to add anything more because Dan knocks on a doorframe and sticks his head inside.

“Okay, monkey,” he says with forced airiness. “I need you to pack some things.”

Chloe distractedly listens as he explains to Trixie she’ll be staying with him for a while longer. She briefly wonders how much of their earlier conversation he’s heard but she quickly puts it out of her mind.

She has some hard decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, it was the Julian McCaffrey from 4x06 and 4x07. Why create an asshole when I can borrow one? 
> 
> And in the next chapter the Devil will finally meet the Detective :P


	4. How did You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amenadiel is still an oblivious idiot, Michael is a mother-hen and the Devil finally meats the Detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the song title belongs to Shinedown. 
> 
> There's some recreational drug use in this chapter and a bit of panicking.

Lucifer slowly draws in the smoke, lazily listening to the water bubbling in the hookah. He enjoys a sweet but surprisingly fresh taste that reminds him of a meadow in full bloom on a hot summer day. He exhales and with a gentle touch of his will, he shapes the smoke into butterflies, birds, and flowers in all colors of a rainbow.

“So pretty,” sighs dreamily Michael, staring at another flock of colorful forms swirling toward the ceiling.

Lucifer hums in agreement and looks mournfully at the hookah because it was the last of their special shisha. They got it from some Russian babushka who - he could swear - was some relative of Baba Jaga. He has no idea what ingredients went into this thing but it’s potent enough to make even angels see galaxies.

He snickers softly, watching Michael. In his happy state, his twin confused the density of air with the one of water and as the result, he’s levitating in a horizontal position a meter above the floor. He even looks as if he were floating on a surface of the water. It seems pleasant but Lucifer remains comfortably sprawled on the couch anyway – better don’t take a chance of falling on his arse. It’d be terribly undignified.

Still... it’d be hilarious if it happened to Michael. Lucifer laughs softly at this mental image.

“We need to get more of this thingy,” he says, waving his hand in a direction of shisha. “It’s almost as good as fairy dust.”

“Mhm. Do you remember the time when we _slightly _overindulged at someone’s wedding in Faerie?” asks Michael with a nostalgic smile. “On our way back we crashed into this lovely planet between Mars and Jupiter...”

“Well...” In his current state Lucifer can’t decide if he’s more amused or embarrassed by their past tomfoolery so he just grins like a loon. “At least, we have an equally lovely asteroid belt in its place.”

They were so young and stupid back then... well, a _little _younger since sixty-six million years isn’t that long in the scale of their lifespan but they were undeniably more stupid then. Now they’re old and wise... No more flying under the influence of odd magical substances.

“And then, instead of going back to Silver City, we crash-landed on Earth to sleep it off,” reminiscences Michael. “We hit the surface a bit too hard and all of the large lizards went extinct.”

“The dinosaurs,” supplies helpfully Lucifer. No, it definitively wasn’t their proudest moment. He’s fairly certain that there’s still a crater somewhere on the Earth as an eternal reminder of their idiocy. “Waking up to a mother of all hangovers and Dad’s glowering face thundering ‘You two are a disgrace to the whole angel kind!’ wasn’t fun though.”

Michael cackles at the Devil’s pretty accurate mimicry of their Father’s outraged yelling.

“Good times,” he snorts. “It was one of those occasions when I thought He’ll murder us for sure.”

He closes his eyes with a blissful look on his face and Lucifer follows suit, letting himself enjoy the moment. Whatever they smoked, it’s making him pleasantly warm and light, as if all of his worries temporarily disappeared. He feels happier than he was in a long time. Maybe it’s thanks to the babushka’s magical shisha but perhaps Daniel’s earlier phone call helped as well.

The Douche informed him that Justin McCaffrey, also known as Justin Tierning, appeared at the precinct. He confessed to all the crimes the police couldn’t prove him previously and a few additional as well. He also muttered something incoherent about the Devil and Daniel connected the dots. Much to Lucifer’s surprise, he praised him for a job well done.

Doing something meaningful instead of wallowing in his misery made him feel surprisingly good. Michael suggested they should do something fun to celebrate and so they ended up smoking the hookah. For once he’s quite pleased with life and he has every intention of enjoying it while it lasts.

The elevator doors ding but Lucifer doesn’t bother to open his eyes to see the guest. At Maze’s insistence, he finally put a code on the bloody thing – no one aside for their inner circle can enter the penthouse uninvited.

“Well, well, well,” drawls Amenadiel’s voice. “Behold the King of Hell and the Prince of Heaven in all their divine glory.”

“Retired,” they both remind him in unison. Really, their titles are such an anachronism, not that they ever cared about them.

“Blessed be, oh A-Manny-Manny-Dildiel!” adds Lucifer in a singsong, prompting Michael to giggle.

He grins broadly, hearing his eldest brother’s explosive sigh.

“How high you two are?” asks long-suffering Amenadiel.

“Only archangel high,” chirps gleefully Michael.

Lucifer guffaws, not able to stop himself. A smacking noise suggesting that Amenadiel face-palmed doesn’t exactly help him to contain his merriment.

“Yeah... um, hi,” says another voice which definitely does not belong to Amenadiel unless he managed to change gender in the past few seconds. “Something’s happened and we need to talk. You probably should sober up.”

In a quick sequence, there’s a startled yelp, whoosh of wings and a thud from Michael’s direction but Lucifer pays him no mind. He lies in his place, completely frozen in sudden terror because he knows this voice. Oh God, he’d recognize this voice even in the pits of Hell...

The others are talking but he can’t understand a word through the high-pitched ringing in his ears and a frantic roar of his blood. He takes breaths in large gasps but for some reason, there’s no oxygen in the room. Oh God, once again he’s at Her mercy or lack thereof... and it’s not just a dream this time. It’s really happening... Help...

Each of his limbs weights a tone but he struggles to lift his hand and touch his other wrist. There’s a texture of the shirt and smoothness of the skin under his fingers... and no adamantine bracelets binding him. There’s nothing physically pulling him down to Hell... Maybe...

With an effort, he opens his eyes and blinks quickly, nearly blinded by a wall of white, iridescent feathers. Somehow he focuses enough to recognize Michael’s wing stretched out in front of him, shielding him from the others in the room.

In an odd flashback, he’s transported back into the bleak time after his First Fall... He was thrown from Heaven itself and the violence of this act – the power of his Father – destroyed his physical body completely. His soul was brutally ripped out from it, getting scorched and burned in the process.

He still doesn’t know how many ages he spent in agony and utter darkness, vulnerable in Hell. But then he opened his eyes at last – they finally got restored – and saw white wings cocooning him protectively and Michael crying over him. His twin’s always been hopeless at healing and yet there he was pulling all his power to mend the unconceivable damage done to him.

Not that Lucifer was happy to see him back then...

Now some part of him refuses to deal with the unfolding situation. He wants to curl up and wait until it’s all over but he can’t passively allow for things to happen. He can’t... Not this time.

To anchor himself in reality, he counts glowing primaries in front of him, then secondaries and finally tertials. His eyes slowly trail to his brother’s other wing which is raised aggressively, ready to strike. Edges of all flight feathers have turned sharp enough to cut a diamond – Michael is not amused.

“What possessed you to bring _her _here without giving us any notice?” he asks so coldly that Lucifer worries he might give frostbites to everyone in his vicinity.

“Look, I know it’s all very sudden,” says quickly Amenadiel. “But you need to know what...”

Lucifer stops paying attention to his eldest brother’s pointless lecture because he realizes something. It seems Michael sobered up in like two seconds flat... so why he still feels fuzzy all over the edges? Shakily he picks up a small knife and presses the blade to a pad of his thumb. He stares in mute horror at a drop of blood quickly gathering in the pricked place.

No. This cannot be happening. He can’t be vulnerable around Her. No, no... _Please_...

“I don’t care,” Michael’s sharp tone cuts through Lucifer’s rising panic. “You two need to leave.”

The Devil swallows convulsively battling nausea but he climbs clumsily to the vertical position anyway. He’s as wobbly on his feet as a newborn fowl.

He barely contains hollow laughter bubbling in his throat at the sight of Amenadiel who’s standing at attention in front of irate Michael. Clearly old habits die hard... He looks at Lucifer and promptly frowns in concern. The Devil chooses not to wonder how pathetic he must appear at this moment.

He ignores Amenadiel and... his other guest and shows Michael his bloodied thumb, still under cover of his wing – no need for the others to know about it. His twin pales slightly, immediately understanding the implications of Lucifer’s unanticipated bound of mortality. He points with his eyes toward an entrance to his bedroom, suggesting he should remove himself from this situation. The Devil scowls at him because he displayed enough weakness as it is – he’s not going to run in his own home. Michael gives him a pleading look, asking him to consider his wellbeing but Lucifer resolutely shakes his head. For a moment they stare at each other in a stalemate, until finally the archangel sighs unhappily and folds his wings on his back, allowing him to pass.

Lucifer’s hands are visibly shaking so he hides one of them in his pocket. Taking advantage of the fact that Michael hasn't hidden his wings, the Devil buries his other hand in his downy feathers. As long as he won’t look at Her he should be fine... If he pretends badly enough She’s not here, nothing will happen...

“Are you okay, Luci?” asks Amenadiel whose frown significantly deepened during the twin’s silent argument.

Lucifer fixes him with a hard look, pointedly disregarding the fourth person in the room.

“Never better,” he answers dryly, clinging to sad remains of his pride. “Since you’re already here, you may as well explain yourself.”

“Well...” starts Amenadiel, staring at Lucifer as if he were afraid he’s about to keel over. “I’m truly sorry to spring this on you like that but this is an emergency. Tell them.”

This last bit is directed at the only mortal among them and so She tells them how She’s been harassed by an angel. Lucifer closes his eyes in resignation because of course, the Host tried to use Her to send him back to Hell. It’s what he feared the most so of-bloody-course they’ve done precisely that.

Lucifer absently strokes Michael’s wing. The feathers are ruffled in agitation but they’re gradually settling into their default alignment under his ministrations. The archangel could use some preening actually... it just wouldn’t do to leave him looking as if he flew through a hurricane. What would the neighbors say...

“...and now he threatens my daughter,” the blonde continues bringing Lucifer back from his reverie. Her voice is strained under the weight of emotions. “We need to do something and fast.”

“This angel...” says Michael when it’s clear Lucifer has no intention of speaking. “How does he look like?”

She describes him with a precision of a cop giving a statement and twins exchange gloom looks.

“Sandalphon,” mutters Lucifer under his breath.

He feels as Michael shudders slightly so he pets his wing comfortingly – neither of them has a high opinion on this particular angel. Since the very beginning, Sandalphon has had a distinguished place in the heavenly gallery of God’s most deranged creatures. He’s always been ready to fulfill orders that made even other angels cringle; what’s worse, he was... disturbingly _eager _about it.

Lucifer isn’t overly surprised by this – in his opinion, anyone with such a stupid name just has to be a sociopath.

Until recently Michael has kept the worst of the angelic menagerie on a very tight leash, releasing them only when Dad demanded it. Unfortunately, the new regime took a different approach and Gabriel sent Sandalphon to do his dirty work. Either that or he failed at exerting his control over him.

“Who the hell is this guy?” the blonde asks impatiently.

“If you must know, one of his most known tasks was testing Job’s devotion,” says Amenadiel quietly as if in the hope no one will hear him spilling the family’s dirty secrets.

“Oh, you mean the time when God and Satan made a bet to see how much pain some poor guy can take before he loses his faith?” She asks with open disdain.

Lucifer abandons his thorough contemplation of the floor as his head snaps up to look sharply at Her.

“I had absolutely _nothing _to do with that,” he growls insulted. “I’m in no way or form responsible for any of Dad’s psychosis.”

“Okay,” She says, clearly startled by his outburst but it’s already too late.

They’re staring at each other for the first time since She poisoned him. Nothing could have prepared Lucifer for this... for facing Her. He’s spent so much time tormented by the nightmares of Her condemning him to the eternal darkness like some avatar of divine wrath, that now he’s outright startled by what he sees. She’s nothing more than just a human... just a human and a miserable one at that. There are dark circles under Her eyes, Her hair are greasy and She developed a gaunt look of a person haunted. There's no hiding that those months have been harsh on Her.

Lucifer feels a pang of pity and guilt for being the cause of her woe and then he immediately hates himself for it. It’s not as if he asked to be assaulted and it’s only fair She pays the price of her own choices. He feels wretched anyway.

The blonde's the first to blink and avert her eyes and Lucifer returns to staring at his own shoes. The tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife.

“Right,” says Michael, not even bothering to pretend he’s not trying to defuse the situation. “Daddy dearest has an unfortunate habit of torturing whomever He supposedly loves.”

“That’s... not true,” protests distressed Amenadiel and promptly shrinks under the twins’ double glare.

He outright rebelled for Hell’s sake, he should at least be able to admit that Dad has some less than savory tendencies. Wasn’t their family history enough of a proof of that? And what kind of benevolent God demands unconditional love and threatens eternal torture if refused? And He dared to call that free will.

“This utter lack of critical thinking is the reason why we got the management positions and you were nothing but a low-ranking enforcer, brother,” Lucifer informs Amenadiel snidely.

Now that the shock of being confronted with Her wearied off somehow, the Devil is slowly starting to get angry at his eldest brother for his thoughtlessness... Which is good, he can work with that. Anger is not his favorite sin but it’s still pretty high on his list.

“What can we do about... Sandalphon?” the blonde asks quickly, sensing that the angels are on the verge of an ideological debate.

Lucifer presses his lips into a tight line because it’s unacceptable that some angelic bastard threatened Beatrice. Unfortunately, he can’t focus on strategizing with his brain doing flips every minute or so because of Her proximity. More importantly, she betrayed him once... what guarantee he has she won’t do it again with his darling siblings pushing her in that direction? What if she’s working for them even at this very moment?

“We will think of something,” he says diplomatically, staring at something above her left shoulder. “We’ll let you know when we figure out a way to protect the spawn, I swear.”

She shakes her head, the ponytail bouncing.

“No, that’s not enough,” she protests. “This bastard threatened my daughter, Lucifer. I can’t just sit and wait for what he’ll do next. I need to know how I can protect her. She’d never be in any danger from the angels if I haven’t met _you. _We need to fix this!”

Lucifer hunches his shoulders as something crumples in him; he can almost feel the force of Her displeasure. He can’t deny that she’s right – the angels wouldn’t give a damn about Beatrice if it wasn’t for him...

“We appreciate your warning about our siblings’ schemes. Your worry for your child’s safety is perfectly understandable in these circumstances,” Michael says calmly but with a note of finality. “Sadly, dealing with the Host is a challenge, even without adding any more variables to the equation so we won't include you in our plans. You’ll be told everything you need to know in due time... as Lucifer promised.”

His tone is mild but he speaks with the authority of someone well used to being in charge and – much to Lucifer’s astonishment – the blonde backs off immediately. It seems that a miniature Judgment Day Michael unleashed left a lasting impression. From a corner of his eyes, Lucifer observes as a conflict plays out on her face as she’s obviously torn between risking crossing the archangel and pushing forward her agenda.

“Um... Lucifer,” she starts hesitantly. “Can we speak alone for a moment?”

“No,” breathes the Devil at the same time as Amenadiel exclaims: “Out of the question!” and Michael says: “No fucking way.”

“Well, the consensus is no, you cannot,” Lucifer says. “You may say whatever you have to say in front of them.”

He cringles internally at the prospect of his brothers listening but it’s still preferable to finding himself alone with Her. He shudders at the mere thought and his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on Michael’s feathers.

“Well...” the blonde takes a deep breath and takes a tentative step closer. Lucifer tenses instantly, still stubbornly avoiding her gaze. “I... I think I owe you an _explanation_,” she stumbles on her words but he reminds silent, having no wish to make it any easier on her. She steels herself and ventures further: “You need to understand that... seeing your face, your real face, was a shock to me. I mean... you’re the actual Devil,” her voice breaks. “I’m a _normal _person with a boring job, a kid and everyday problems... How I was supposed to deal with that revelation? I had no idea what to do and no one to confide in so... I’ve made a _mistake_...”

“Why?” asks Lucifer quietly, cutting through her rambling explanations. What has he ever done to Her to make Her so determined to destroy him?

She combs her fingers through her hair in a nervous gesture.

“You’re the Devil,” she repeats miserably. “In _every _history of good and bad throughout history, you’re the embodiment of the ultimate evil. I believed I had to do something and then I ended up in Rome, and father Kinley found me,” he can practically feel her eyes burning him like coals. “At the time he seemed to have all the answers. He used my fears to turn me against you. He showed me proof of what you’ve been up to through ages...”

“Oh, I know _precisely _what he showed you,” spats Lucifer angrily.

After Amenadiel retrieved Maze from Hell, the demon investigated the mess left by the priest. It didn’t take long for her to establish that he worked alone, without the Vatican’s blessing. She also found a book documenting everything the preacher knew about Lucifer’s movements.

He’s not even sure why it astounds him that they believed him responsible for things like the rise of the Third Reich or the Chicago Fire. He was there, true, but he was also present at the Nuremberg Trails or when the Berlin Wall fell but for some reason, no one mentioned that. He deserves neither the blame nor the credit because he was only an observer, a passive watcher thorough all humankind’s history... After all, the Earth belongs to them and he’s nothing but a guest here. It’d be awfully rude of him to interfere in their politics.

“Obviously, I have nothing better to do than just wreak havoc, making sure that more of your kind damn themselves,” he sneers resentfully. “Never mind, that a depressingly large percent of the population ends up in my basement anyway. Why would I even want souls? To make myself a fancy bedside lamp?”

The blonde blinks quickly as if fighting tears.

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s as if the whole world turned upside down on me and I have no idea what to make of it. I just tried to do the right thing. Father Kinley assured me that sending you back to Hell is what’s _the best_ for everyone, even for you.”

“_The best for me_,” repeats Lucifer dully.

Because being backstabbed is apparently ‘what’s the best’ for him, especially when it comes in a nice package with destroying his sense of security in his own home. And let’s not forget those forlorn, hopeless centuries in Hell when he was desperately clawing to find a way out, even if it meant being burned alive in an endless cycle. Even that agony was better than stopping and admitting it’s over... that he’s forevermore imprisoned in the abyss of darkness and torment.

He doesn’t dare to wonder if any of his sanity would survive without Maze, Amenadiel and Michael’s quick intervention. Despite their efforts, this ordeal has left him broken to the point where successfully shifting between his forms – once as easy as breathing – now is a cause for a celebration. He can’t even spend quality time with few people he truly cherishes without some insidious voice whispering they’re around only out of pity, that he’s too unlovable for anyone to genuinely want him.

And she’s done this to him because it’s ‘what’s _the best_ for everyone’.

“Did you know what this accursed ritual would do to me?” he asks barely recognizing his own voice, it’s so strangled. He can’t decide which answer he fears more: that she knew and deliberately set him to burn for all eternity or that she didn’t care enough to find out.

“I... I didn’t know,” the blonde whispers lamely. “I thought... I thought it would only send you to Hell.”

Lucifer snorts derisively because there’s no such thing as ‘only’ about being trapped in Hell. She deposed him like yesterday's garbage. She showed him less consideration than she did to the worst of criminals – they at least got the chance to tell their version of events and she worked diligently to establish if they're the guilty party.

And all of this after years of being her friend... And to think she allegedly had romantic feelings for him not so long ago. Does loyalty mean so little to her?

“I never meant for you to get hurt,” she says plaintively. “I had no idea what I was doing and father Kinley convinced me you’re still that guy... that being who _caused _mayhem for his own entertainment,” she shakes her head. “I should’ve known better. He made me lose the sight of how much you’ve changed in this past few years when we worked together... that you were trying to be _better_.”

Lucifer finally lifts his eyes and stares at her incredulously. Sure, maybe he is a monster but he’s a monster with a code. He’s done horrible things but only to punish souls corrupted beyond redemption... the innocents are perfectly safe around him. He's never done anything to harm humanity in general. After everything was said and done... how can she _still _believe him capable of atrocities the preacher accused him of?

Which leads to a question if she’s ever known him at all... or cared for the person he was instead of a version of him she approved of?

When she accused him of collecting favors because of the power they gave him, he felt as if she slapped him. The people who came to him had unfulfilled dreams, desires and he enjoyed making them possible – he thrived on it. Still, he stopped doing that for a time because she deprecated it. Every time he mentioned his sex life in front of her, it unfailingly earned him her disgust and he got called a slut often enough to stop talking about it at all... almost as if there was something shameful about having safe sex with enthusiastically consenting adults. LUX is a very successful business endeavor and yet she never took his interest in managing the club seriously. She only _demanded _constant focus on their police work.

With growing horror he realizes, he’d been curbing what feels like eighty percent of his personality around her, molding himself to her desires. If she’s been able to accept that he’s the Devil, would she try to change him even _more_... to redeem him from his supposed crimes? To turn him into an _obedient _little angel?

Just like _dear old Dad_...

There’s a soft, pained noise from Michael and Lucifer looks at him worriedly, torn from his ruminations. A little too late he realizes he’s been clutching his brother’s feathers this whole time and now he’s almost crushing them. He lets go immediately and strokes the abused wing apologetically. Michael gives him a small smile, assuring it’s alright.

Lucifer lets hellfire to burn in his eyes as he looks at the blonde. She flinches and takes a step back... Not so long ago, such a reaction would pain him but right now any guilt is swallowed by a volatile mix of anger and heartbreak.

“You know...” he starts conversationally. “On occasions like this, I almost wish I were _what _you believe I am. The great and terrible Adversary, the Destroyer of Worlds or however this nonsense goes,” he bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Has it ever occurred to you that you humans are _not that important_ in the great scheme of things, hm? That you’re nothing more than a bunch of pets Dad made for his own perverse amusement because He was bored? Do you honestly think I was so petty and cruel to take my wrath on your kind, instead of directing it where it belonged?” he shakes his head, his lips twist bitterly. “The truth is I was tired of Dad’s tyranny and Him treating as all like glorified slaves. I’ve made my stand against Him and I regret only means I employed, not the act of Rebellion itself... If it makes me evil, then so be it. I’m _proud _of it.”

She stands frozen, staring at him like a rabbit in front of a snake. He looks at her, wishing he’s never allowed her to have this much power over him. Of course, he’s paid the price of this naiveté.

“It’s beyond my understanding why your kind believes I wander around and pick up souls one by one to drag them to Hell,” he continues darkly. “As if anyone could own someone else’s soul... If I ever wanted to destroy humanity... I would simply _do _it. I wouldn’t bother with the Apocalypse, Four Horsemen and the rest of that circus... It’s a ludicrously bad plan from the tactical standpoint. Instead, I would obliterate this _whole bloody planet_ in one go, there’d be nothing left but a pathetic piece of cosmic charcoal,” he informs her matter-of-factly, actually making her shudder. “The whole angelic Host would not be able to stop me since my only equal in power always refused to harm me,” he throws a meaningful look at Michael, who nods in confirmation. “The only reason I haven’t destroyed the world is that I _choose _not to. You, humans, make the eternity less boring,” he scoffs because his fondness for humankind brought him more pain than it’s worth it. He continues venomously: “So you can imagine how much it offends me when you all spiel vile lies about me and who I am. I’m not sure what’s more demeaning: the blatant slander or the insults to my intelligence.”

Lucifer studies the blonde for a moment, letting her features to be burned in his memory forever. She taught him a valuable lesson after all. It shall not be forgotten.

“I hoped you’d be different,” he says finally. “I thought that maybe you’ll be able to see through prejudice and besmirching... but obviously I gave you far too much credit. _Thank you_ for reminding me that by having any sort of expectations I’m only setting myself for a fall,” his scowls darkly. “Quite literally.”

His former friend watches him mournfully with wobbling lips and then she quickly blinks and turns around toward the elevator. There’s something final in a ding of the closing doors.

It’s a good thing that a couch is right behind him as he all but crumbles at the moment she's out of the sight.


	5. F.E.V.E.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer brainstorms with Linda. Chloe’s very much done with her celestial infestation. Michael gives exactly one damn and it’s not about anybody’s fragile sensibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter title belongs to Orden Ogan.

“Why this is even happening?” rants Lucifer, gesticulating emphatically. “Why the hell I’m still vulnerable around _her_?”

He takes a large gulp from his flask – this situation definitely requires liquor, preferably lots of it.

He’s not sure what exactly the Host knows about his mortality glitches around certain blonde but, truth be told, he can’t even blame them for trying to exploit his obvious weakness. Lucifer has always been the heavenly equivalent of the thermonuclear weapon and Michael is not only as powerful as him but also a more ruthless fighter. It’s no wonder, Gabriel prefers to avoid an open confrontation with both of them, especially in the middle of LA. Dear old Dad would probably fry his arse if there were causalities among humans.

Of course, understanding his younger brother’s motivation doesn’t make Lucifer’s predicament any less annoying.

“Do you have any theories?” asks Linda frowning.

They’re sitting in her office and Lucifer just finished relaying his version of yesterday’s confrontation.

“No,” he says pursing his lips. He looks at her imploringly. “I need _your _help to figure it out, Doctor. We need to fix this and _fast_.”

With psychos like Sandalphon flying around, Lucifer’s bounds of mortality became a serious threat and not just for him. Pretending it’s not happening is not an option in these circumstances. Amenadiel and Maze are on high alert protecting Linda, and Michael is busy doing some surveillance but those are only temporary solutions. Lucifer hates with fiery passion being the weakest point of their defense.

Linda considers all of this for a moment and the Devil fights the urge to impatiently bounce in his place.

“How you felt when you met Chloe again?” she asks finally.

It takes a heroic effort from Lucifer to stop himself from playing with his cufflinks.

“Like plucking all Amenadiel’s feathers one by one and making him eat them,” he grumbles peeved.

Lucifer was considering confronting his former partner in some vague future but Amenadiel just had to take that choice from him, didn’t he? As a result, he was caught completely off guard, without a chance to prepare himself. His small meltdown wasn’t even a surprise but it made him feel both angry and embarrassed. Thank all gods, that at least he was with Michael and not alone – Lucifer’s skin crawls at the mere perspective of not having any backup while being so vulnerable, so exposed in front of Amenadiel and Her.

The only reason Lucifer didn’t punch Amenadiel in the face was fear that he might accidentally kill his last two functioning brain cells.

“Well, yes, but aside from that?” prompts Linda.

“Currently I'm considering sending Michael to throw Amenadiel into a black hole. Again,” Lucifer chuckles at this glorious memory. “The first time was well deserved too, just so you know.”

Back in the day, Amenadiel was jealous of his younger brothers having both higher rank and more power than him and he never failed to make his displeasure known. When another star exploded into Lucifer’s face, the Firstborn flat out said that he considers himself more worthy of Father’s gifts. In response, Michael dumped him into the nearest black hole. Obviously, it didn't harm Amenadiel but it was embarrassing enough to curb his dickishness... at least within Michael’s hearing range.

“Lucifer,” says Linda, dragging him back to reality. “Your anger at Amenadiel is perfectly understandable but you’re deflecting,” she points out gently, not deterred by his pouting. “I know it’s hard but if we’re going to get to the bottom of it, I’m afraid you need to revisit how you felt when confronted with Chloe.”

Lucifer averts his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart clenches unpleasantly. He nervously licks his suddenly dry lips. There’s no escape from this, isn’t there?

“I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe or move, my heart hammered and my chest hurt,” he shudders involuntarily, recalling that overwhelming terror and helplessness. His heart-rate accelerates at the memory and he looks sharply at Linda. He can’t dwell on that. “How... how’s that even relevant?”

Linda blessedly ignores a small tremor in his voice.

“What you’re describing sounds like a panic attack,” she informs him calmly.

“The Devil does _not _panic,” he says flatly. He’s glare is fierce enough to send most mortals running but, of course, Linda doesn’t even blink.

“It’s not the first time, you said something along these lines,” she observes. “Why do you think, you feel the need to insist you don’t panic?”

“Because I don’t,” snaps Lucifer defensively. “People panic because they feel powerless, because they see no way out. And I’m nothing like this.” 

No matter the situation, he could always get himself out of trouble, using his wit or – when that failed – his power. He blinks quickly against sudden burning in his eyes, ashamed of his own weakness. All his strength didn’t matter when his former partner successfully trapped him in Hell by effusing the adamantine bracelets with the empyrean power. Once again, he was crushed like a bug under his Dad’s thumb. 

“I’m not defenseless. I’m not,” he adds.

“I never said you are. You’re one of the most powerful beings in this universe,” assures Linda kindly. “But it doesn’t make you invulnerable to pain. What Chloe did hurt you deeply on the personal level. There’s absolutely no shame in your response to trauma.”

Lucifer shakes his head stubbornly. He knows, Linda wants him to come to terms with being a victim in this scenario but admitting it would make this far too real for his taste. His self-preservation instinct rebels against this because both Heaven and Hell taught him that any weakness will be ruthlessly used against him.

“How’s that even relevant to my mortality issue?” he asks petulantly.

“I’m getting there,” promises Linda. “I want you to tell me how you’d feel if right now Chloe walked in through that door. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

Lucifer swallows harshly at the sudden influx of nausea.

“_Fear_,” he admits softly.

“Why you’re afraid of her?” inquires Linda with no judgment.

“I trusted her. And she used that trust against me,” Lucifer fussily adjusts his cufflinks, avoiding the Doctor’s steady gaze. “She’s not the person I thought she was. I don’t know how I could be so completely wrong about her. She didn’t even care...”

He clenches his teeth because the lump in his throat doesn’t allow him to continue – their confrontation’s still too fresh in his mind. The blonde admitted to making a mistake but rejected any responsibility for what happened, throwing all the blame at the priest. She didn’t even apologize and while words wouldn’t fix anything, he’d at least know she has some remorse over her actions.

“You allowed yourself to lower your guard around her,” summarizes Linda. “By being emotionally vulnerable around her, you willingly gave her _power _over yourself.”

“I’m most definitely not doing that anymore,” protests Lucifer. 

Dad overdone Himself when He made her – even Lucifer has to admit she was a perfect trap for him. It was no secret he couldn’t resist intelligent, driven human beings with a strong sense of justice... especially attractive ones. Her resistance to his charms only added fuel to the fire of his accursed curiosity.

He can’t even say he didn’t see the writing on the wall. After all, his first instinct was to run and not look back when he realized she was making him vulnerable. He felt the same when he found out she’s a miracle. He really should have paid more attention to his instincts.

“I wish I never met her,” he confesses bitterly.

“You have every right to feel this way,” says Linda. "And yet you’re still vulnerable around her, just in a very different way. You feel scared and exposed around her... vulnerable to being hurt again. It’s just a theory but I think it’s your fear that makes this happen.”

Lucifer stares at her with wide eyes because it sadly makes sense. It all comes back to Amenadiel’s theory that the celestials make their own reality with their emotions and self-updating. He felt vulnerable around his former partner and so he became literally vulnerable.

“Oh, isn’t that just marvelous!” he complains. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“The only way to overcome fear is to face it,” Linda tells him. “By avoiding the issue through all those months you just handed her more power. You need to take it back.”

Lucifer contemplates it for a few minutes. His initial reaction is to argue and search for another solution... but maybe it’s not such a bad idea? When push came to shove, he managed to stand up to the blonde yesterday. The person he saw wasn’t what his traumatized subconsciousness made her be. Perhaps, Linda’s theory held some water...

“So you’re saying, I should see her again?” he asks slowly.

“Not until you feel comfortable with the idea,” says quickly Linda. “Remember, Lucifer, baby steps. Rushing into things can make this worse,” He rolls his eyes at her and she smiles in fond exasperation. “Saying her name would be a good start though.”

Lucifer wants to laugh and do precisely that, just to prove Linda it’s not such a big deal but then he discovers his vocal cords don’t work as they should. He swallows convulsively and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“Chloe,” he finally says, even though the name feels like pieces of glass in his mouth.

* * *

Chloe marches briskly through the precinct’s underground parking. She has a lead to follow but the truth is she can’t fully focus on the case the way it deserves. Her thoughts keep drifting toward her yesterday’s confrontation with Lucifer. It left her feeling dismayed and guilt-ridden... and tired beyond words because no matter what she does, she gets something wrong every time. To make it worse, she can’t trust her instincts anymore, since they got her entangled into what looks awfully like an eons-long celestial blood feud.

She’s bitten much more than she can swallow, hasn’t she?

Preoccupied with her brooding, she fails to pay as much attention to her surroundings as she should. She’s about to open the door of her car when she sees a reflection of someone standing right behind her. She has no time to react as she’s grabbed by the collar of her jacket and roughly turned around to face her opponent.

Her eyes widen in fear when she recognizes the angel... Sandalphon.

“You thought, we would fail to notice that you were consorting with the Devil again?” he hisses.

During their earlier encounters, he was disturbingly controlled but now his fist clenches spasmodically on the material of her jacket and there’s a manic look in his pale-blue eyes. Fear turns Chloe’s blood into ice.

“I can explain...” she starts quickly but he grabs her by the throat before she has a chance to finish. He slams her against the car’s side, forcefully enough to push the breath out of her lungs. She chokes but he pays it no mind.

“It astounds me in how many ways you managed to squander our generosity...” he says with open malice. “But what else can be expected from a whore of Satan?”

Chloe struggles against his grip, kicking, scratching and using all the tricks she learned during the martial arts training. It’s of no use – she could as well be fighting a brick wall. Black spots are dancing in her vision, telling her she’s close to fainting from the lack of oxygen. This makes her panic, turning her moves frantic.

“Terrorizing mortals, aren’t we?” The painfully familiar voice snaps Chloe is out of her frenzy. “I see some things remain unchanged, Sandy.”

The grip on Chloe’s throat lessens slightly and she finally can take a lungful of air... oh, the blessed air.

She blinks rapidly and for a moment she thinks she’s looking at Lucifer, leaning casually against a cruiser... but no. It’s option number two unless for some reason Lucifer woke up today and decided to do a total makeover, complete with AC-DC t-shirt and sinfully tight black jeans.

“Michael,” Sandalphon spats venomously, confirming Chloe’s conclusions.

She scowls because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Michael used her as bait. It’s just her luck that now she acquired a second ‘guardian angel’ as if the first one wasn’t nuisance enough.

“Can we talk like civilized beings?” asks politely Michael.

In response Sandalphon unfolds a pair of dove-gray wings with a soft whoosh; he positions one of them in front of him like a shield while the other is poised to attack. The edges of feathers look as sharp as swords.

“Apparently we can’t,” Michael answers his own question with mild exasperation. He doesn’t show any sign of being surprised or intimidated by the other angel’s hostile reaction.

Chloe takes advantage of her captor’s temporary distraction and she starts to struggle with renewed energy. Unfortunately, his grip on her throat is like an iron band. He keeps her pinned in place as easily as if she were a kitten, not a cop. She forces herself to stop moving because it’s clear she’s only doing damage to herself and not him. She needs to wait for a better opportunity...

“How dare you to approach me, traitor... May your wings rot and crumble into dust,” growls Sandalphon with unmasked hatred. “Your depravity truly knows no bounds. You were always as much of an abomination as Satan.”

“Keep sweet talking me like this and you’ll make me blush,” Michael drawls, causing him to sputter in outrage. The archangel doesn’t give him time to recover: “You will deliver a message to Gabriel from us.”

“You are in no position to give me orders. Not anymore,” sneers Sandalphon. “Once you were the first among the Host but now you have turned against everything that is holy. You have fallen...”

“Actually, I’ve jumped, not fallen. Entirely by choice,” clarifies Michael, his eyebrows slightly raised. His smile turns sharp and shark-like. “Kindly inform Gabriel that if he’ll leave us alone, we’ll behave. We won’t hatch any nefarious plans or interfere with Heaven’s agenda,” The cold look in his eyes sends an unpleasant shiver down Chloe’s spine. “But if you continue to bother us... we will respond with necessary force.”

Chloe whizzes as Sandalphon’s long fingers tighten around her throat. He curls his lips showing his teeth in a feral grimace which makes him look completely unhinged. She’d willingly give up her left arm to be as far away from him as possible.

“Are you threatening the entire Host?” he asks lowly.

“_Yes_, I am. It’s your last warning,” answers Michael dispassionately, any traces of humor gone from his voice. “Now you can either willingly go back to Silver City or I’ll make an example out of you and send you back to Dad in the form of fine ash. Your choice.”

His calm, confident way of presenting threats as unavoidable facts somehow terrify Chloe more than Sandalphon’s evident rage. She doesn’t doubt him – she saw what he’s capable of – but it doesn’t improve her situation in the slightest. She’s stuck between two celestial beings ready to tear each other apart... and whichever will win there are good chances she’ll end up as collateral damage. She’s not under the misconception that her life matters to either of them.

With cold certainty, she realizes she’ll probably die in the next few minutes and there’s absolutely nothing she can do about it. She’ll never see Trixie again...

Chloe kicks Sandalphon desperately but he completely ignores her. He stares motionlessly at Michael with such burning loathing that it’s a miracle he doesn’t catch fire.

The situation couldn’t be worse...

“I have a mission from my Father to complete,” hisses Sandalphon. “And you cannot stop me because Lord is with me. I will bring this whole building down with all those people inside if you’ll try to force me to leave.”

Correction... the situation just got worse.

Chloe freezes in terror. She’ll never forget a small earthquake Michael caused incidentally when he was so furious he temporarily lost control. What will happen when a clearly deranged angel purposefully unleashes all his powers under a building bursting with activity... Dan, Ella, everyone is here... Oh no...

She throws Michael a terrified look but the archangel only narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

“Killing humans is against Dad’s rules,” he points out calmly. “If you wantonly cause such a carnage, you’ll be executed.”

Sandalphon shows his teeth in imitation of a smile.

“And I will gladly accept my punishment if the death toll here will make everyone in Silver City realize how much of a threat you pose,” he explains viciously. “Gabriel will have no choice but to assemble the entire Host in a holy war. You cannot win against the power of Heaven and Father’s will be done. Causing _your _downfall is worth my sacrifice.”

At this point, Chloe’s thoughts are running in a constant loop of ‘oh shit’. She frantically looks around trying to locate the nearest fire alarm. If she could trigger it, at least some of the precinct’s staff would have a chance... The problem is she’s not going anywhere because no matter how much she struggles, she can’t loosen Sandalphon’s hold.

“Let’s stop pretending for a moment, it’s about fulfilling Dad’s plan...” muses Michael, tilting his head in an avian manner. “It’s personal.”

Chloe gives him a look of sheer disbelief because he sounds as insouciant as if he were discussing the weather. She wonders how he can be so indifferent when so many human lives are at stake...

“You want revenge on _me_, don’t you?” continues Michael. “It’s about that time when you took Heaven’s justice in your own hands. Few angels were atoning for some minor transgressions but you believed it was not enough so you hurt them... and because they’re angels, they believed it was God’s will so they just accepted it without complaint. When I realized what was happening I pinioned your wings and dumped you on some piece of cosmic rock for ten thousand years as punishment.”

Chloe feels like Sandalphon’s grip on her throat tightens; he growls quietly. It seems Michael hit the nail on the head with his assumptions... not that it improves the situation in any way.

“You believe I was too lenient with those angels but punished you unjustly for trying to fix my supposed negligence,” concludes Michael, intently watching the other angel’s every reaction. “You can’t imagine how much I regretted that decision ever since. It still haunts me until this very day.”

Chloe greedily sucks in air as her captor’s hold loosens a little. Her heart hammers so loudly that both angels probably can hear it. She’s convinced, she knows how Michael plans to play this out but she’s not sure this will work. The prideful archangel doesn’t sound even remotely remorseful; he’ll probably just make things worse if he won’t get over himself and won’t do some serious groveling.

“I regret that I didn’t make it a _million _years instead of ten thousand,” announces harshly Michael and Chloe almost chock on her own saliva in shock. What the hell is he doing? “Back then I didn’t realize, you’re an incorrigible butcher capable only of mindless destruction. You have nothing but your cruelty and twisted shrewdness of a beast. I suppose the only reason God didn’t destroy you yet is that on occasion He needs a rabid attack dog,” Michael smiles icily, his eyes are dark and hard like obsidian. “Now you’re trying to ingratiate yourself with Gabriel but he’s neither stupid nor unnecessarily cruel. Soon he’ll realize _what _you are and he’ll do what I did. Once again you’ll end up contained like an animal that you are.”

Chloe doesn’t even have time to register what’s going on as she’s roughly pushed away when Sandalphon lunges at Michael. She hits the pavement like a rag doll but she rolls away instinctually. As fast as she can, she scrambles to her feet, ignoring her aching elbow and hip – she needs to be ready for whatever comes next. She quickly looks back at angels and she freezes.

She expected to see all hell breaking loose but apparently, the whole drama is already over. She has no idea how Michael managed to accomplish that so fast but he has Sandalphon firmly pinned to the ground. He’s keeping him in place by twisting one of his wings from behind, in a way that looks painful even for someone who doesn’t know the first thing about angels’ anatomy.

Sandalphon growls curses in some foreign language and suddenly there’s a gleam of steel in his hand. He stabs viciously but Michael swiftly intercepts the attack, without losing his grip on the wing. There’s a loud crack of a breaking bone and the knife falls from Sandalphon’s limp hand and rolls somewhere out of the sight.

“How stupid do you think I am?” hisses Michael. “I was the one who taught you all that move.”

“You rebelled against God so yes, I think you are a fool,” snaps back Sandalphon.

“You’re quite right. I’m a fool for _not _rebelling millennia ago,” agrees snidely the archangel. “Being away from you lot works wonders for my blood pressure. Give my regards to Dad.”

Chloe barely manages to cover her eyes in time to shield them from a brilliant burst of white light. A powerful gust of hot wind makes her sway on her feet as the air shimmers around her with otherworldly energy. She swallows harshly because father Kinley died the same way.

Her heart hammers in her throat as she gathers the courage to open her eyes. As expected, Michael is the only one left standing. There’s no trace of regret or pity on his face as he stoically inspects the dark smudge on pavement – it’s the only thing that remains after the other angel.

“You _killed _him,” she mutters before she can stop herself. 

Michael looks at her slowly and Chloe gulps nervously. Unlike Sandalphon he never gave her the creep vibes but facing him alone is like standing in front of a tornado who has a personal reason to hate her.

“No, I merely destroyed his corporal body,” he says. “He shouldn’t bother you anymore.”

Chloe blinks not sure if she understood him correctly.

“Wait, you mean... he can come back?” she asks, torn between apprehension and confusion.

“It’s possible but highly unlikely,” explains Michael. “On his own, it’ll take Sandalphon millennia to gather enough energy to sustain a physical form on the earthly plane. Dad can restore him faster or perhaps Gabriel could... but only if he got a serious power upgrade to my level. Still, considering what he tried to pull off, I doubt they’ll send him on any independent mission anytime soon.”

Chloe shakes her head, staring in shock at the darker patch on the asphalt – she can’t decide what disturbs her the most about this whole debacle. Her hand trembles when she rubs her sore throat; she’s probably already developing a necklace of bruises. Somehow deliriously she thinks that concealing them in foreseeable future will be a bitch. Wearing a scarf in this weather in California is a dead giveaway.

“He wanted to bring down the whole building... he would kill _everyone_,” she says, blinking rapidly. It hits her how close to the tragedy they all were because of a celestial pissing contest. And she wouldn’t be able to stop that from happening. “You shouldn’t have antagonized him,” she snaps angrily.

Michael raises an eyebrow, not impressed with her outburst.

“It was a calculated risk,” he shrugs. “I needed to take him down as fast as possible to avoid casualties, so I intentionally baited him. I knew which buttons to push to get him focused entirely on attacking me and too enraged to employ any coherent tactic. Problem solved.”

Chloe glares furiously because in her opinion it could easily escalate into something that looked like a real-life disaster movie but what’s done is done. She’d rather avoid arguing with the archangel since he clearly enjoys smiting people a bit too much for her comfort. She supposes, she should be glad he at least won’t leave her with a very large corpse to dispose of from the precinct’s parking.

“So that’s it?” she asks. “Do you think that with Sandalphon gone, the rest of them will leave me and my daughter alone?”

“I honestly don’t know,” admits Michael. “Heaven is a dictatorship. Everything depends on what orders they have,” he eyes her thoughtfully for a moment. “Let me give you a piece of advice... do not assume the angels are like humans. We’re different species entirely, we don’t operate by the same rules or morals. The _only _aspiration the angels have is to faithfully fulfill their tasks. There’s no place for doubt or scruple when you’re in God’s service. Everything you’re doing it’s inherently right and just by mere virtue of being His will. Sandalphon’s actions will be condemned not because he was about to commit a slaughter but because he didn’t have _permission _to do so.”

Chloe mulls over that for a moment. She comes to the conclusion that the more she finds out about God and Heaven the more ardently she misses being an atheist. In this case, ignorance truly was a blessing. She feels a pang of compassion for Lucifer because she can’t imagine him living this kind of existence for endless ages.

“And everyone just allows this to go on?” she wonders stunned.

“No,” Michael answers darkly. “And you know what was done to Lucifer when he questioned the existing order one time too many. He was made an example of what happens when you disobey. Now, after Amenadiel and I sided with him, the whole top of heavenly hierarchy went to Hell,” he smiles mirthlessly. “Only Dad knows what they’ll do now, so you better be careful. Let us know if they’ll start to sniff around you again.”

He hesitates briefly, staring at the place where Sandalphon’s blade fell but then he looks at her and he narrows his eyes slightly. He quickly makes up his mind but instead of picking up the knife, he unfurls his wings from whatever dimension they were hidden in. 

“Wait!” exclaims Chloe frantically before the archangel has a chance to fly off. “Can I maybe... um...” and then she stops abruptly, horrified by what was about to come out of her mouth.

She almost asked Michael to let her touch his wings. What the hell...

She had seen glimpses of wings before but yesterday Lucifer played with Michael’s feathers the whole time they were talking. Involuntarily he succeeded at drawing her attention to them and now she can’t get them out of her head.

She remembers the auction with a fake pair of angel wings – they were gorgeous but they’re nothing in comparison with the real ones. Michael’s wings are identical in shape and size but each blindingly white feather looks as if made from pure light. She wonders if they’re soft and warm like rays of the sun.

She imagines Michael’s likely reaction to her petting him and she shudders. She values her life and she likes her hands attached to the rest of her body, thank you very much. It seems the divinity has some peculiar effects on humans. Damn it, the angels should come with NHS health warnings...

And she realizes Michael is staring at her impatiently. Shit.

“Um, how’s Lucifer doing?” she asks quickly.

Predictably, the archangel’s expressions darken immediately and Chloe mentally face-palms because she just walked straight into another minefield.

“Do you expect me to give you a perfunctory answer and say he’s fine? Because I have no intention of assuaging your guilt like this,” Michael says, his demeanor swiftly changing from mostly civil to affronted. “And you’re delusional if you believe, I’d discuss Lucifer’s actual wellbeing behind his back with _you _of all people.”

Chloe blushes mortified. She doesn’t know what else she expected.

“I, uh... I just meant, I didn’t intend to startle him or anything,” she babbles, hoping she’s not digging her own grave. The shiny wings don’t exactly help her to focus. “I assumed Amenadiel will give you heads ups.” 

“We know.” There’s an unvoiced ‘it’s the only reason you’re still alive’ and Chloe gulps loudly.

She curses the recklessness that got her into this celestial mess. She’s not sure if she believes in what Michael said about the Host but the fact remains, that the angels didn’t exactly inspire any fond feelings in her. She’s not going to take any chances with her daughter’s safety and she needs help protecting her. And there’s still a small matter of being cursed to Hell...

She has to find a way out of this. It’d probably help if Michael were less hostile toward her.

“Look, I know I screwed up,” she says, thinking fast. “But we can help each other. I don’t know why the angels want my collaboration but we can use it against them. Maybe I could pretend I’m working for them and find out what they’re up to?”

“Or you’d set us up instead,” counters coolly Michael.

Chloe blanches because damn it... after Sandalphon threatened Trixie, she seriously considered doing precisely that. Ultimately, she decided against it and her daughter’s mournful eyes when she talked about Lucifer were what gave her the final push. She hasn’t told anyone about that so how the hell Michael knows? What powers does he have? Can he read people’s minds or something?

“No, I’m not reading your mind,” says the archangel, freaking her out completely with his timing.

“I... I would _never _do that!” she protests vehemently, trying not to show she’s panicking internally. In response, she only gets a doubtfully raised eyebrow. “I wouldn’t betray Lucifer like that again. I’ve made a mistake but only because father Kinley convinced me this was the only way to protect LA and my kid. Now I know Lucifer isn’t evil. I’m a good person, I would _never _deliberately hurt someone who’s done nothing wrong.”

Michael tilts his head, watching her like an annoyed bird of prey.

“Yesterday you told someone who’s been depersonalized for ages and conditioned to believe himself responsible for all evil, that he’s somehow culpable for the trouble _you _brought upon yourself,” he declares icily. “You’re such a wonderful person, indeed.”

And after that, he disappears in a rustle of feathers. Of course, he’s one of those guys who just has to always have the last word.

Chloe grits her teeth and moves to search for the blade dropped by Sandalphon. Whatever comes next, she’ll at least be armed.


	6. Testify

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The importance of the wing preening is explored. The spells are cast and the Devil faces his fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter title belongs to Hammerfall.

Lucifer frowns, listening to Michael’s recap of the skirmish with Sandalphon.

They’re sitting in front of the fireplace, preening each other’s wings. Their soft glow makes the whole penthouse seem peaceful and homely but the Devil’s thoughts are far from calm. He scowls remorsefully at his brother’s rumpled feathers – he almost damaged them yesterday and that’s unacceptable. With well-practiced moves he gently smoothes each of them, making sure that they’re perfect.

The wings of angels are for the most part pure divinity in the physical form. They’re intimately connected to their owner’s soul and that makes them extremely sensitive – they convey the emotional charge they’re touched with. With an exception of special circumstances like patching up an injury, touching them without explicit permission is the worst faux pass among angels. Preening with anything less than love is unthinkable and would be beyond unpleasant for the recipient.

The only time anyone except his twin touched Lucifer’s wings was when Maze cut them off and then he was willing to let Linda do the same. Michael – no matter how outwardly affable – always tended to keep everyone at arm’s length, avoiding emotional attachments like a plague. He probably never even considered allowing the wings’ privileges to anyone but the Devil, let alone giving someone an open invitation to touch them. 

Lucifer deeply appreciates that his brother allowed him to hold onto his feathers when he had to face his former friend – it was confronting. 

“Leaving her the dagger was a nice touch,” he says when he’s finally satisfied with the state of Michael’s primaries. “After all, in _my _case, it doesn’t matter if she’d use an empyrean blade or her kitchen knife,” he adds sullenly. “We’ll see what she’ll do, thinking she has an opportunity to complete her God-given task.”

“And if she’ll gut one of our loving siblings instead, she’ll seal her fate,” observes Michael, clearly pleased with himself. “They wouldn’t forgive such a slight. Working for them would no longer be a viable option.”

Lucifer nods, curious against himself how this gambit will play itself out. If he’s former partner assumed that Michael left the blade out of the goodness of his heart, she’s dead wrong. He was merely putting to good use his skills at manipulation they both learned from their parents. Especially their Father loved to ‘test’ everyone, in the process providing them with just enough rope to hang themselves.

Whatever the blonde will do, Lucifer will at least know _where _her allegiances lie.

“I’m not sure what Gabriel was thinking sending Sandalphon of all angels,” the Devil says after a while. “He’s a brute. Of course, she didn’t trust him. Appointing someone more diplomatic would probably get them the results they wanted.”

The angels wasted their best chance to subdue the Devil by pointlessly terrorizing their best asset. The problem is the blonde remains a wild card. He’s embittered and disenchanted by the fact that he has to consider his former friend as a threat.

“Mike...” says Lucifer warningly, realizing his brother is unusually quiet. “Do _not _kill her.”

No matter the circumstances, he still feels ambivalent about the blonde’s punishment... like somehow it’s his fault. Her deeds destroyed his love for her and he resents her for believing the worst about him but some sentiment still stubbornly lingers. He doesn’t want her dead and in Hell... at least not before she has a chance for redemption.

“Killing Decker would be pointless,” agrees Michael absently. He skillfully combs through Lucifer’s plumage, making him relax instantly. “They’d just resurrect her. After some time in Hell, she’d probably be even worse pain in the arse than she already is. Trips downstairs never end well for mortals.”

“Michael,” chides Lucifer, simultaneously appalled and amused by his brother’s logic.

“What?” the archangel gives him an innocent look. “Anyway, it might not even be about Decker but about our reaction,” he points out. “It’s no secret there’s no love lost between me and Sandy, and frankly, it was bound to end up bloody no matter which of us apprehended him. Gabriel is the master of propaganda, imagine what he’ll make of one of us frying some angel’s wings extra crispy.”

“Heavenly politics... I can’t say I missed them,” Lucifer sighs tiredly. “Gabriel convinced everyone that I’m the evil incarnate,” he looks at his brother mournfully, guilt churning in the pit of his stomach. “He’ll do the same to _you_.”

It won’t matter what really happened or that Sandalphon was about to kill Dad knows how many people. Gabriel will probably make Michael look like a villain who cruelly assaulted a poor helpless angel who was just doing his job. The celestial plebs will believe him without a question and subsequently, they’d be much less inclined to give the benefit of doubt to any of their fallen brothers.

“It’s fine. If the Host fears me, we could use it to our advantage,” muses pragmatically Michael.

Lucifer glares at him because he shouldn’t just stoically accept the possibility that Gabriel will tarnish his good name. On the other hand, Michael is an expert when it comes to ignoring insults, without letting them get to him. Thanks to dear old Dad he’s well-practiced in that. It infuriates the Devil much more than any slander aimed at him.

Michael pays no mind to Lucifer’s silent seething. He gives a critical glance to ruffled feathers near the joint of the Devil’s wing. He starts to meticulously straighten and rearrange them.

“Stop glaring, Luci,” he says calmly. “It’s only to be expected from Gabriel. He has a lot to prove so he uses his usual tricks to gain an advantage.”

Lucifer glare only darkens. Gabriel’s always been a sanctimonious prick who liked to snitch at the others to make himself look better... especially when he couldn’t get their parents’ attention with his other achievements. He tended to resent the siblings he believed had Dad’s favor, Lucifer in particular.

“Yes, poor Gabriel...” he grumbles. “The eternal middle child. High enough in the hierarchy to be seen... and low enough to always be overlooked.”

“Eh, he’s a typical overachiever,” Michael rolls his eyes and then he suddenly smirks. “Remember the time when he dragged half of the cherubim choir just to make an impression on a bunch of shepherds?”

“How could I ever forget?” Lucifer snorts. At the time he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over his younger brother’s hubris. “We’ve been working overtime to clean up his mess ever since.”

Gabriel meant well – in his own way – but he never bothered to understand mortals, considering them an inferior species. He wrongly assumed they’ll simply do as they’re told. To make it worse an overload of divinity has had its unpredictable side effects and human nature has done the rest... much to the despair of every angel who has to deal with the aftermath in the afterlife.

Sadly, Gabriel was the Messenger, answerable only to God, so no one could tell him to stop messing around. More than once, Lucifer listened to Michael’s frustrated rants on the subject.

“And to think that all of this happens for no _better _reason than the compulsive need to please Dad,” Michael shakes his head. “What’s even the point of that? He never paid attention to us, unless He wanted to use or punish us... or to _test _us,” he scoffs morosely. “He’s a terrible Father and yet all the angels compete who’s the most obsequious servant, or who prostrates themselves faster or bows lower. Anything, just to get Him to notice them if only for a moment,” Michael glances at Lucifer with unfeigned confusion. “I could never understand _why _they even bother.”

Lucifer lowers his eyes and his hand in Michael’s feathers stops moving. He doesn’t want to admit that but he remembers the unparalleled joy and happiness that came with their Father’s attention. He never forgot the sense of belonging and peace brought by fulfilling his purpose in life.

He’s also disgusted with himself for missing that because he knows those are the strings controlling the angels like puppets. He can’t take back the realization that they’re a subservient species by definition... in a constant need to subjugate themselves to someone else’s will and to serve them. The concept of choosing one’s own path is completely alien to them. Their fates were planned and decided before they were even created; without someone making decisions for them, they’d be completely lost.

From Lucifer’s point of view Amenadiel’s struggle after he lost his wings was both pitiful and ridiculous. He desperately searched for the meaning of his life and in the process, he interchangeably tried to affiliate his loyalties to Dad, Mom and on occasion even Lucifer. Putting aside jokes about starting a homeless angels’ pet shelter, the Devil’s relieved that in the end, Amenadiel imprinted himself on Linda and not him. The last thing he needs is his elder brother following him around like an overgrown lost puppy and asking him what to do.

Lucifer never cared to rule anything – he most definitely didn’t try to dethrone God – he only ever wanted to be master of his own fate. He’s spent eons calling himself the Devil and Satan to distance himself from his kin, in perpetual rejection of everything the angels are meant to be. He’s never been like the rest of them and most importantly he doesn’t want to be.

Or maybe he’s _exactly _like them?

Perhaps, his recurring nightmares about his former partner condemning him the way his Father did, were more than just that? Maybe his subconsciousness tried to tell him something? He swallows harshly against arising nausea because hasn’t he acted precisely like a compliant angel when he was around the blonde? Hasn’t he accepted her goals as his own and remolded himself to be what she wanted him to be? Hasn’t he surrendered himself to her will?

This possibility leaves Lucifer feeling more violated than being viciously thrown to Hell. He’s no one’s pawn! He sacrificed too much to have his freedom to give it up for _anyone_. He wonders if reminding him of his place in the natural order of things was a part of his dearest Father’s plan.

“Luci?” Michael asks worriedly, noticing his twin’s darkening mood.

“Nothing,” says the Devil blinking quickly. “I just wonder what would it take for Dad to stop trying to control everything about our lives. Is being left alone too much to ask?”

“From His perspective, probably,” shrugs Michael, resuming his ministrations over Lucifer’s wing. “The narcissistic types like Dad never take rejection well and especially not from their favorite son. He probably can’t understand why someone doesn’t want to worship Him,” the archangel scowls, staring intently at the feather he’s currently preening. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s another reason to _never _give Him my unconditional allegiance. I’m not going to grovel for approval of someone who’ll never respect us for who we are.”

Lucifer winces. Aside from their Mother, he’s the only one who ever openly challenged God but Michael is a master of being passively defiant while boiling with barely concealed resentment. This made his adamant refusal to join Lucifer in his Rebellion an unpleasant surprise. It was also the only time in their long existence when he heard Michael beg for anything – he tried to convince the Devil to not antagonize their Father, fearing it’ll end up in tragedy.

He was right, of course, as per usual. It's one of the most annoying things about him.

“How do you feel about showing Dad another middle finger?” suggest Lucifer. “While you were having adventures in smiting, I finished our little spell. We can cast it tomorrow.”

“Splendid,” grins Michael. “Not having all our bases covered is as pleasant as sand between feathers.”

“Speaking of... turn around,” commands Lucifer. “Your tertials look like something a hellhound found and chewed.”

“You break my heart,” complains jokingly the archangel but he complies, carefully maneuvering with his wings to avoid accidentally smacking the Devil.

Lucifer pulls a face at clusters of feathers at the base of his brother’s wings. How he managed to get them so tangled is beyond his understanding. He combs his fingers through them trying to get them into their rightful arrangement. The feathers are light-warm-soft to the touch, all of them tingling with divine power. Lucifer painstakingly smoothes down each of them, starting with the small downy ones and then he moves on to coverts. He leaves the flight feathers for the end.

His slow, meticulous moves relax both of them and soon Michael is reduced to a happy angel puddle, purring like a large cat. He’s in a peaceful, almost trancelike state, with his eyes closed. 

It’s another reason why the preening requires so much trust from angels – it makes them vulnerable.

* * *

Amenadiel walks through the open door to Linda’s house, frowns and then he comes out again.

“Are you sure it’s working?” he asks.

“Of course, it does,” Lucifer and Michael answer at the same time, in an identical offended tone.

“But I don’t feel any difference?” pushes Amenadiel.

“That’s the point,” reminds him exasperated Lucifer. “We put a spell to ward off all angels from entering this house... all except the three of us and your unborn fledgling, obviously.”

“That’s why it took us so long to figure out the formula,” adds Michael. “Including someone who’s not even born yet and making sure the spell won’t affect Linda wasn’t as easy as it sounds.”

They’ve been working on this spell since Remiel paid a visit to Amenadiel but Sandalphon’s threats made the issue even more pressing. None of them were willing to take a risk that their loving family might use Linda and her gestating spawn as leverage. Securing her house and office is a priority.

Lucifer shudders internally at the memory of his Mother hurting the Doctor. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her _again _because of their accursed family drama.

“So theoretically speaking... what would happen if some unauthorized angel tried to enter the house?” inquires Linda, protectively putting a hand over her stomach.

“Nothing,” assures Lucifer. “The spell would just repel them. We don’t want anyone to get hurt accidentally.”

“Yeah, you better be right about that,” grumbles Maze, wrapping her arm around Linda’s waist. Her glare suggests that if he’s wrong, she’ll cut off his wings and mantle them over her fireplace.

“Well, let’s test that,” decides Linda.

They collectively hold breath as the Doctor slowly approaches the entrance to the house. She hesitates briefly but then she takes another step and finds herself safely inside. She looks back at three angels and a demon and smiles brightly, giving them thumbs up.

“See? Everything’s fine,” says Michael trying not to sound as relieved as Lucifer knows he is.

“I admit, I expected to feel something,” confesses Linda, giving the door a curious once-over. There’s nothing there to see so she just shrugs and joins the others outside.

“Great, but how do we know our siblings won’t be able to enter?” insist Amenadiel with his typical bullheadedness.

Lucifer glares at him but then he has a brilliant idea so he puts it in motion immediately. He smiles devilishly and clasps his hands together in prayer.

“Oh, blessed archangel Gabriel, we beseech thee, thou get your arse downstairs!” the Devil yells, looking up toward heavens. “We need to talk!”

“Fuck me sideways,” groans Michael.

“Lucifer, you moron!” cries Amenadiel.

But it’s already too late. With a whoosh of light brown wings, Gabriel appears in front of them. He’s shorter than the twins but he shares their lithe built. It’s where the similarities between them end – his blonde hair and blue eyes make him look the way humans often portray angels. He even wears a white dress... pardon, a robe, as Amenadiel likes to insist.

Maze growls and pushes Linda behind her; she glares at the newcomer with her daggers at ready.

“Do you want to surrender to the judgment of Heaven?” asks Gabriel imperiously.

“Never,” says Lucifer, grinning widely.

Not giving Gabriel time to react, the Devil pounces at him, grabs a fistful of his robe and throws him in the direction of the open door to Linda’s house. With a startled yelp the blond archangel bounces off of deceptively empty air in the entrance and gracelessly falls on the ground outside.

Lucifer looks smugly at Amenadiel who is staring at him incredulously.

“As you see, it works,” he proclaims cheerfully.

Gabriel stands up, dusting off his robe. His pale cheeks are flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“I won’t forget this, Lucifer,” he growls, clenching his fist as if he wanted nothing more than to punch the Devil. “But let it not be said I’m not generous or that personal grievances make me less inclined to be just... I’m giving you one _last _chance to throw yourselves at our Father’s mercy and willingly atone for your sins.”

Lucifer fights the urge to roll his eyes. As if anything Gabriel says could disguise the fact that he wasted a half of a year on attempts to make them surrender without a fight. Lucifer and Michael both have a demiurgic spark that makes them more powerful than other angels – no one could defeat the Devil during the Rebellion and God had to subdue him personally. Now that Michael openly joined him, the Host probably feels as if two sets of nukes were aimed at them.

“If you finished stroking your ego, do try to remember we have _nothing _to atone for... unless you count our desire to live our lives independently from Dad,” Lucifer coolly informs Gabriel. “We want nothing to do with Him and His so-called mercy.”

Gabriel ruffles his feathers to make himself look more imposing.

“Everything derives its life from Him,” he says pompously. “Perhaps the sparks should seek their freedom from the fire or my shadow declare autonomy from my body...”[1]

“Gabriel, your rhetoric remains as flowery as it’s empty,” Michael interrupts him. “We’ve made our position clear. Do with it what you must but don’t waste our time with pointless palaver.”

Somehow Gabriel’s blush becomes even darker. Tongue lashings from Michael always tended to have that effect on him.

“Then I wash my hands of you all,” Gabriel says angrily. “You had your chance and now you can blame only yourselves for what’ll happen next.”

He takes off with such impetus that Lucifer has to dodge to avoid beings smacked with a wing.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” explodes Amenadiel gesticulating widely.

“With Sandalphon gone he has to change his strategy anyway,” Lucifer reminds him flippantly. “And I’m done with this game of cat and mouse.”

Amenadiel shots him another withering glare.

“Let’s just hope it won’t come back to haunt us all,” he says glumly.

Lucifer answers with a glare of his own but he doesn’t relent. Summoning Gabriel isn’t the _only _reckless thing he has in plans for today. After all, the Doctor prescribed facing his fears... never-mind that she recommended baby steps.

With the angels prowling around he simply doesn’t have the luxury of time to take things slow.

* * *

Chloe almost jumps out of her skin when she hears a loud knock on the door. She gives herself a mental pep-talk, trying to convince herself that it’s probably only an innocuous human matter. Angels don’t wait politely for permission to enter and instead they just barge in. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop her heart from racing – the constant stress takes its toll on her nerves.

She squares her shoulders as she marches to the door. She opens them without checking who’s behind and she freezes at the sight of Maze and Lucifer.

“Don’t make such a face, Decker,” says the demon mockingly. “We’re not selling anything... and we’re not interested in purchasing your soul either.”

“We’re just making a house call,” supplies the Devil.

“A what?” asks confused Chloe, blinking quickly to make sure she’s not hallucinating them. It’s depressing that it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that happened to her lately.

“Move,” grumbles Maze as she unceremoniously pushes Chloe inside, not bothering with explanations.

Lucifer follows them a bit slower; he closes the door behind them and looks around curiously.

“What’s going on?” asks warily Chloe.

“You’ve made a complaint about the angels being intolerable pests in this neighborhood,” shrugs Lucifer. He doesn’t spare her even a glance and instead seems awfully preoccupied with studying walls and layout of the building. “I’m going to put a spell on this house to prevent them from entering.”

Chloe stares at him in stunned silence.

“And they won’t be able to get to Trixie?” she clarifies.

“As long as she remains in the protected building, yes,” confirms Lucifer.

“I’ve already had a talk with the spawn,” adds Maze. “I instructed her that if she sees something winged and sanctimonious she needs to pray to the resident three idiots. This way we’ll be able to intervene if she’s in any danger.”

Chloe vigorously rubs her closed eyelids to get herself rid of suspicious burning under them. For the first time in far too long, she feels something akin to hope. The trouble she’s found herself in seems less insurmountable than she believed it to be even this morning.

“Thank you,” she chocks out.

“We’re not doing this for _you_,” Maze informs her snidely. “It’s _Trix _we want to protect.”

Chloe winces guiltily at the reminder of the chasm her actions created between them. She wishes, she never discovered Lucifer’s real identity and all that happened afterward could be erased.

“I appreciate it all the same,” she says, looking at Lucifer.

The Devil doesn’t return her gaze, focused on drawing some intricate symbol on the wall. Instead of using chalk, blood or anything that might be expected, he only maps it with his finger, painting it with golden light. When he’s done the symbol glows brighter for a moment and then disappears as if it were never there. Apparently, it supposed to work like this because Lucifer nodes satisfied and move on to the corner of the room where he starts all over again.

“Trixie spends most of the time at Dan’s lately,” says carefully Chloe, hoping she won't offend the Devil with this reminder. She had her head bitten off enough times lately.

“We know,” answers Lucifer without turning back. “That’s why we sent Mike to secure her school and the Douche’s place.”

This prompts an amused snicker from Maze.

“If Dan catches him, do you think Mike will finally succeed at getting into his pants?” she muses with an eager gleam in her dark eyes. She licks her lips. “How do you think it’d go... a dirty cop demanding sexy favors in an exchange for not arresting a burglar or a naughty burglar having his wicked way with a poor unsuspecting cop?”

Lucifer stops his work only to give her a dirty look.

“The option number two,” he says grumpily.

“You’re probably right about Mickey,” Maze nods sagely. “But when Linda and I tried that with Amenadiel he only...”

“Alalalalala... no! Bad demon,” the Devil interrupts her, making a hilariously horrified face. “Can we, please, stop inserting my brothers into porn scenarios?”

“Whatever. You’re such a _prude_, Lucifer,” complains Maze.

“How dare you,” growls the Devil, seemingly trying to turn her into stone with the power of his glare alone. He fails miserably and the demon only smirks insolently.

Chloe shakes her head energetically. A mental image of her ex-husband making the beast with two backs with archangel Michael of all people... angels... beings... gives her brain the blue screen of death. Lucifer’s twin is far too terrifying to contemplate in any sort of x-rated scenario. Poor Dan wouldn’t know what hit him because Michael would probably eat him alive.

“You sent Michael to break into Dan’s place?” she states dumbly.

Lucifer looks at her quickly and then returns to putting finishing touches on the symbol he’s making.

“Don’t worry, he’s housetrained. He knows better than to go through his underwear drawer,” assures the Devil, making Chloe scream internally.

“Oh, come on, Decker,” snorts Maze. “Don’t tell me a little B&E gets your panties in a twist. Surely, you know by now that we don’t care about the morals and laws of the United States of America,” she leans casually against the kitchen table. “It’s such bullshit anyway... the rich can as always get away with anything, mass murder including and the poor are still neglected. And what’s so great about having all those norms anyway? Not so long ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to join the police because you don’t have dangly parts between your legs. Better let’s not mention how someone with my skin color would be treated,” Maze is thoroughly unimpressed and doesn’t try to hide it. “Even _Hell _is more civilized than that. After all, I was the second in command there for eons, answerable only to His Infernal Highness here.”

Chloe doesn’t answer, too busy with staring dolefully at Lucifer who ignores her. She can’t help but notices that Maze keeps herself between them at all times; she watches Chloe’s every move like a predator ready to strike. No matter how much she doesn’t want to admit it, this distrust is well earned.

Lucifer is completely focused on his task; he wanders through the house, methodically putting symbols in the strategic places. Not even once he made eye contact with her. The invisible wall he puts between them is almost palpable and painful to bear. She hasn’t appreciated until now to what degree he lowered his defenses around her before. She took this closeness for granted, and now the warmth and light in his eyes is replaced by rancor.

She realizes how badly she missed him but it’s too late. She doesn’t believe there’s anything she can say or do to fix their relationship. The fact that he’s willing to put away his resentment long enough to protect Trixie, makes Chloe’s guilt even more burning.

“So... this spell,” she says to break the awkward silence. “The other angels won’t be able to break it?”

“No,” answers Lucifer, not taking his eyes off the symbol he’s currently making near the backdoor. “The magic is a big no-no for the Host. They won’t be able to figure it out and the only way for them to break it would be destroying the entire house. Which is a bit of an overkill.”

Chloe swallows harshly, resolutely trying not to think about that possibility.

“I don’t understand why they’re so determined to force _me _to work for them,” she confesses.

Lucifer and Maze exchange glances that seem to covey an entire conversation Chloe’s not privy to.

“They’re angels. They love to do things by the book,” the demon explains finally. “They got a memo that you’re destined for this task so they persist on making that happen, no matter how stupid it is.”

Chloe senses there’s something Maze’s not telling her but she chooses not to press the issue. Better to quit while she’s still on top.

“Right,” says Lucifer, critically eyeing the last of his drawings. “I think that’s it. The whole place is now angel-proofed.”

“Thank you,” says Chloe with feeling. She can’t express how much it means to her that no angelic stalker will be able to harm them as long as they’ll stay in the secured places. And finally, she won’t have to sleep with one eye open.

She returns to the kitchen and rummages through the cupboards.

“Maybe you want to stay for a drink?” she hopefully asks the infernal duo. “I don’t have whiskey but I think I can find some vodka or red wine?”

Lucifer gasps and Chloe turns around just in time to see him turn pale like a ghost and then disappear in a powerful gust of wind. Maze stares in shock at the empty space he left and then she gives Chloe incredulous glare.

“_Red wine_? Are you fucking serious, Decker? He hasn’t touched that stuff since you poisoned him,” she snarls, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Great job.”

With another venomous look, the demon stalks out of the house, leaving Chloe feeling even more wretched than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It’s a quote from DC Lucifer (issue 50). Gabriel said that, btw. 
> 
> If anyone is curious about the feathers terminology, here’s my source: 
> 
> http://www.ikonet.com/en/visualdictionary/animal-kingdom/birds/bird/wing.php 
> 
> And in the next chapter shit hits the fan for real...


	7. Lord of Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally no-one is having a good day. An unexpected family reunion doesn’t make it more pleasant...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter’s title belongs to Bloodbound. 
> 
> There’s some violence ahead but nothing too bad, I think.

A few hours later Lucifer lands directly in the bathroom of his penthouse. He accidentally knocks some bottles off of the counter which makes him swear in an infernal dialect. Small annoyances are the worst and he’s beyond done with this day even without them...

Habitually he checks if Michael is around and some of the tension leaves him when he senses him in the penthouse. The archangel’s aura brightens slightly in response and Lucifer knows, he’s aware of his presence too. After the dramatic exit he’s made, the Devil texted his twin and Maze to let them know he’s fine. He told them he’s only in the need of some fresh air but by now Michael is probably having kittens anyway.

Mechanically Lucifer washes the dust from his face and brushes his teeth. Earlier he barely managed to fly off from the blonde’s house only to land in the middle of a desert where he promptly threw up. Her innocuous offer of a drink – and red wine of all things – brought back far too fresh memories of their fateful date. All of his instincts made him react as if he were threatened and so he ran like a coward.

He rubs his closed eyes in a futile attempt to erase the image of the blonde’s face when she toasted him and then pushed the glass of poisoned wine into his hands, making him drink it. Eh, where were the times when you betrayed those closest to you with a kiss? Why he trusted her so much? He knew that something was off so why he listened to her? He was such a fool...

He hasn’t drunk red wine since then. The very memory of the taste makes him swallow harshly as he struggles to not retch again.

Of course, he has only himself to blame for this mess. He believed that he might be able to get over his phobia of his former partner faster if he pushes himself harder, instead of taking the slow approach. After all, he doesn’t want to be a liability to his friends any longer than it’s necessary. He assumed that he’d be fine in a situation of his own choosing but it backfired spectacularly. What else he expected, he doesn’t know.

He blinks in distaste at his own glum reflection in the mirror – his eyes look far too dark and haunted for his taste. He’s spent past few hours wandering around the desert to clear his head but all he accomplished was getting himself dusty. He feels disgusting so he decides that a shower is in order but, first, he needs a change of clothes.

He stalks to his closet where he disposes of his jacket moodily. He’s in a process of choosing a new suit when suddenly he hears the beating of more than one pair of enormous wings. Lucifer freezes instinctually as he focuses on the flow of energy in his surroundings. Michael is as always a burning beacon of divine power but there are three considerably less radiant celestial signatures – archangels... It’s three more than is acceptable in the Devil’s living room.

Damn it all to Hell, they really should have put their spell on the penthouse too. At least, they’d be spared from the unpleasantness of visits from their insipid kin. In the privacy of his own mind Lucifer’s cursing foully in tongues – he’s not in a mood to deal with angelic shenanigans. And, of course, they just had to appear when he thought this day can’t get any worse. He has no desire to repeat pointless arguments with them but he definitely doesn’t want to hurt them either. The problem is they _might_ not leave him any choice...

Without a sound, Lucifer swiftly makes his way from the closet to the bedroom. He keeps himself out of the sight, hidden behind the wall, as he carefully assesses the situation. He had his fill of recklessness for today.

“Gabriel, Raguel, Jehudiel... what a pleasant surprise,” Michael greets the angels as casually as if he met them on the street. He’s not simply polite – he’s telling Lucifer who exactly they’re dealing with.

The Devil rises his eyebrows because it’s a rather unusual combo of angels, to put it mildly. In Gabriel’s position, he wouldn’t pick those two sisters to accompany him... or, more precisely, not both of them at the same time. They’re powerful and they enjoy a high standing in Heaven but they have a bad habit of fighting each other like cats and dogs. Their animosity could easily lead to compromising the mission.

What’s even odder than Gabriel’s choice of companions, is his timing. It can’t be a coincidence that they appeared right after the Devil’s return. It’s almost as if they laid in wait for him... which doesn’t make any sense because their chances of defeating both twins are pretty slim. Whatever they’re up to, Lucifer doesn’t like it...

He slowly sucks in a breath, preparing himself mentally and then he puts on his brightest smile like an armor. He just wants a drink and an afternoon of mindless fun but the angels leave him with no choice... he has to face them. He won’t hide from them like a weakling. He tries to put an air of confidence as he enters the living room.

“Twice in one day? You spoil us, Gabriel,” purrs Lucifer. He’s doing his best to sound carefree and not to show how beaten down he feels. “Long time no see, Raguel... And Jehudiel, how lovely. We should celebrate... anyone cares for a drink?”

The three archangels glare at him in a unanimously vitriolic way, causing Lucifer’s smile to become strained. He can’t help but notices that their version of business casual consists of being heavily armed. Something in him breaks even further at this reminder that for them he’s not an estranged brother but the embodiment of all evil. They don’t see him as anything but the Enemy, the Beast, a monster to be defeated and thrown into eternal fire with no remorse. After all this time it really shouldn’t hurt anymore...

He looks at Michael who’s lounging on an armchair as if it was a throne. While he’s outwardly relaxed, his eyes are sharp and calculating. It’s enough to make the other angels visibly uneasy. He gives Lucifer a small half-smile, reassuring him that everything’s fine... for now, at least.

“It’s not a social visit and you know it perfectly well,” says Raguel stiffly.

This time both Lucifer and Michael raise their eyebrows. Raguel spoke out of turn, with no regard for Gabriel’s higher rank which means his command of the Host is pretty shaky. It seems he’s yet to learn that keeping oneself on the top of the celestial food chain requires more than just standing there and looking pretty.

“Why not, Raguel?” asks Michael, baiting Gabriel by dismissing his presence in favor of their younger sister. “I’m curious what changed in Silver City. Do tell... have you and Jehudiel buried the hatchet?”

Never-mind, that Michael had spent a good chunk of eternity on pitting various fractions amidst angels against each other. He practically invented the ‘divide and rule’ strategy to prevent them from joining forces against him. Raguel and Jehudiel’s situation isn’t an exception here.

“_I_’ve ensured that there’s nothing but peace and tranquility in Silver City,” announces petulantly Gabriel, before Raguel has a chance to answer. He literally puffs up his feathers, obviously irked. “_I_ resolved conflicts you failed to settle and now we all are of one mind. _I_’ve brought the dawn of a new era to Heaven.”

Lucifer fights the urge to roll his eyes at Gabriel’s desperate need to be acknowledged and to prove himself better than his predecessor. In his typical fashion, he’s made a fool out of himself because no amount of peacemaking can stop angels form viciously rivaling for their Father’s love. Whether Raguel and Jehudiel truly reconciled or not, it didn’t take their sister long to start subverting Gabriel. The others will undoubtedly follow her example soon... if they already haven’t.

It’s amusing how humans believe that the phrase ‘on Earth as it is in Heaven’ means that one day there’ll be nothing but peace, love, and happiness on Earth. For some reason, none of them wants to consider that Silver City is a vipers’ nest. Lucifer doesn't miss heavenly cutthroat politics.

“Impressive. Most impressive,” mocks Michael because, of course, he couldn’t resist the urge to quote Darth Vader. There’s a clear note of humor in his voice. “But perhaps you should give some consideration to what usually comes after _pride_.”

“Enough!” snaps Gabriel, finally losing his patience.

Judging by his blush, he can tell that he’s a butt of a joke but he doesn’t know what the punch line is. He squares his shoulders and makes a painfully obvious attempt at looking imposing. This earns him rather meager results as Michael answers with a benevolent – if somehow impatient – smile of a sovereign accepting a petition from a blundering peasant.

“Archangel Michael Demiurgos,” starts Gabriel sounding disturbingly official. “You’re accused of high treason against our Father, Lord of Hosts and Creator of All Things...”

“I’ve never _willingly_ paid my homage to God so is it truly betrayal if I refuse to serve and obey Him?” points out Michael with chilling calm.

Lucifer can barely hear him through frantic thudding of his heart; he practically feels the blood draining from his face. He’s spent past half of a year trying to silence a treacherous voice in his head whispering that nothing good in his life can last... that sooner or later Michael will realize the mistake he’s made or that Father will punish him for it... And it’d all be the Devil’s fault. He's worst fears are coming true.

With a heroic effort, he forces himself to get a grip and stop trembling like a petrified child covering from their Father’s anger. He can’t afford to panic, he needs to focus... They can easily defeat the archangels standing between them. They’re not a problem... not unless Dad’s directly helping them, lending them His strength...

“You had your fun playing an adult, Gabriel,” sneers Lucifer, not allowing himself to show any discomposure. “But it’s time for you to leave... or we’ll make you.”

The blond archangel’s undivided attention remains on Michael. He doesn’t spare Lucifer even a glance as if he were beneath his notice, not worthy even of his contempt.

“You offended the Name of God with vile insults,” Gabriel continues mercilessly. “You cannot deny this as it can be attested by many angels who were witnesses to this heinous transgression...”

“Why would I deny it? I’m of a firm belief that ‘arsemonger’ should be one of Dad’s official names,” Michael informs him facetiously. “And could you, please, clarify if by publicly calling Him ‘sadistic dick’ I committed lèse-majesté or revealed a state secret to the masses?”

With Mona Lisa smile plastered on his lips, Michael gives all appearances of being calm and collected but Lucifer can sense dark fury simmering right under the surface... Which is only to be expected after an eternity of surpassing anger – once unleashed it won’t easily recede.

“Moreover,” continues Gabriel, determined to bring this farce to its inevitably dreadful end. If the vein pulsating on the side of his neck is any indicator, he’s about to pop an aneurysm thanks to Michael’s constant taunts. Either that or he’s scared shitless of crossing his former overlord. “You’ve been fraternizing with the Devil...”

“We’ve been fraternizing since the beginning of times,” interrupts sharply Michael. “I never had any intention of stopping only because Dad said so.”

“Careful,” warns Jehudiel, speaking for the first time. “It is true that our Father is Gracious and Compassionate God but you’ve been courting His wrath for too long with your impudence. You really should mind your tone as you’re about to face His judgment.”

All three archangels falter and tense anxiously when Michael slowly stands up, leveling them with a dark stare. He’s projecting his I’m-untouchable-challenge-me-at-your-own-peril persona. Lucifer feels a pang of sympathy for him because since the Rebellion he’s probably spent most of his time like this. After all, without his twin to protect his six, he had no other choice if he wanted to keep himself safe in Heaven.

Not being able to trust anyone makes for an unbearably lonely existence – they both know it all too well.

“Considering that Father is in Heaven and I’m here, you probably should be more worried about _my_ wrath than His,” warns Michael lowly.

“You refuse to surrender?” clarifies Gabriel. He appears to be ready to combust with nervous energy.

“What can I say... I’m bad at submitting,” Michael bares his teeth in an unpleasant smile.

Lucifer subtly shifts his stance, getting ready for a confrontation. Being on the other side of the room then Michael has its advantages – they can attack interlopers from two directions at once, forcing them to divide their focus.

“You leave me with no choice,” says Gabriel gravely.

As on cue, a gust of wind and whooshing sound announces the arrival of another archangel. Lucifer’s eyes widen in shock at the sight of Paniel who’s holding... _Chloe_. Oh, bloody hell...

Lucifer doesn’t have time to contemplate consequences of that though. Suddenly someone grabs him from behind, restraining him and he feels a cold kiss of steel on his throat. He’s been so focused on what’s in front of him that he’s neglected to pay attention to what’s behind... and it was enough for an archangel to sneak up to him.

“Don’t even think about trying anything, Satan,” hisses Camael, straight into his ear.

And isn’t that just great... Camael is dumber than a box of hair but he’s gifted with great physical strength. Escaping his clutches without getting his throat slashed will be a challenge.

“Let go of me, you son of a bitch!” yells the blonde, struggling against Paniel.

She looks around wildly, clearly disoriented by a free flight thanks to a courtesy of the Angel Airlines. This mode of transportation must have been a nasty shock for her mortal body – if her pallor is any indicator she’s on a verge of getting sick. Her eyes take on an apologetic look when she notices Lucifer.

“He grabbed me when I went for groceries,” she explains miserably.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Gabriel?” asks Michael, his expression inscrutable.

“Oh please...” scoffs Gabriel with an unbearably smug smirk, he seems almost giddy. “Father explained how she’s a gift for _us_, how she makes the Devil _vulnerable_. Her willing collaboration would make things easier but it’s not crucial.”

Everyone ignores the blonde who gasps: “What?” with a stunned look on her face.

Isn’t that just bloody brilliant... Apparently, the entire Host knows now that around her they can kill him with punches that normally would only leave him bruised. What’s worse, his and Michael’s signature flames would probably burn him, even though in any other circumstances they’re harmless to him. This seriously limits their options of defense – Lucifer doesn’t feel any particular desire to be barbequed. Again.

“Surrender, Michael, or Lucifer will pay the price of your defiance in blood,” says Gabriel.

The Devil glares at him with a bitter mix of anger and betrayal in his eyes. He learned to expect being treated like dirt by his family. He accepted this as one of the facts of life – it still pains him but he had ages to get used to this. It’s not a surprise that they want to turn his former partner into means to further abuse and demean him. It’s been her purpose all along.

But he never seriously thought that they might take a step further and use his weakness against Michael. And this turns his fear into anger.

He looks at his twin and their eyes meet. Anyone else might think that Michael is reticent – especially in stressful situations – but Lucifer sees clearly how unnerved he is by Gabriel’s ultimatum. This only serves to make the Devil’s anger burn brighter.

He quickly considers what’s the worst possible outcome for him – he might die, obviously... but it’d be considerably less painful than falling. He has his wings and he won’t be trapped in Hell by any external forces. The only real issue would be regaining his corporeal form which will likely take a few years... Thankfully, in this case, the quicker flow of time in Hell will work for his advantage – he’ll be back on Earth almost instantly. Having hope of getting free and an attainable goal he can focus on should keep his battered sanity in check...

In short, dying would be highly unpleasant but endurable.

“Oh, another sponsored trip to Hell, how wonderful!” chirps gleefully Lucifer. They can’t hurt him with something, he’d welcome, right? Dying and going to Hell is perfectly fine. It’s great actually... definitely not a problem. _Why_ would anyone think that? “I was considering opening a theme park downstairs...” he smiles sinisterly at angels, knowing perfectly well that they find his behavior disturbing. Letting Michael know he doesn’t have to hold back on his account is an additional bonus. “You all are invited, of course. You can expect a warm, warm welcome.”

Gabriel watches him with repugnance written all over his face.

“I don’t doubt that. Dabbling in the filth of this universe is the only thing you’re good at,” he says coolly. This makes Lucifer cringle internally but he doesn’t even blink. He heard worse before. “I talked with Father and we agreed that in the light of your intransigent resistance a chastisement is in order. If you die, Hell won’t be your destination but Heaven. Father will deal with you _personally_.”

Lucifer’s heart skips a beat – now he’s well and truly terrified. Trust his family to make a visit in Heaven sound more ominous than Hell in all its fiery glory. He survived Inferno before – if forced, he’ll do it again... he’s not so sure the same can be said about Dad ‘chastising’ him, though.

“It can still be avoided,” continues Gabriel not bothering to hide how pleased with himself he is. “We can even give you a little more time to settle your affairs on Earth, Lucifer. You don’t have to suffer any additional punishment if you promise to return to Hell,” Gabriel gives Michael a hard, unforgiving look. “But only if _you_ surrender without a fight.”

The Devil narrows his eyes because Gabriel is a dirty liar. His promises are empty, the chances of him simply letting Lucifer go are nonexistent – not after all the trouble, he went through to subdue him. If Michael surrenders, the only thing he’ll accomplish will be having both of them doomed instead of just one. He can’t allow that, he doesn’t want his brother to be treated the same way he is.

“Bring it,” growls desperately Lucifer, glaring menacingly at Gabriel. He can take it, whatever Dad has in mind, they just need to leave Michael alone. “You cannot imagine for how long I wanted to punch the ancient bastard straight in His sanctimonious face.”

“Hold your poisonous tongue or I’ll cut it out, Serpent,” snaps Camael, his rough grip threatening to break Lucifer’s bones. He feels as the blade pressed to his throat cuts his skin. There’s a warm trickle of blood sliding down under the collar of his shirt.

At the sight of his twin bleeding, Michael’s eyes flare with white fire.

“Harm him and I’ll rip your sniveling souls to shreds and strand them across the universe in eternal limbo. It’ll be a fate worse than Hell,” he snarls in a tone full of dark promise, making all of the angels pale visibly. They know perfectly well that he doesn’t make empty threats. “Even Dad will be hard-pressed to put you back from pieces... Assuming He’ll bother to try.”

Lucifer gives him a warning look but it’s already too late. Michael has spent an eternity denying himself anything that could be used as leverage against him – anything, except for the huge soft spot he has for his twin brother. By losing his composure so fast, he confirmed that Gabriel scored a direct hit here. Their chances of bluffing their way out of this mess just went to Hell.

“You can obliterate us all _and_ the human too but the moment you do as much as twitch, I’ll slit his throat like he’s a sacrificial goat,” threatens Camael, trembling slightly.

(This prompts Lucifer to squawk in indignation. Why on earth everyone have to associate him with goats? It’s literally adding insult to injury...)

Unfortunately, Camael’s knife remains steady and it’s enough to keep Michael in check. The only way to destroy their opponents before Camael strikes would be turning the entire place into an inferno. The problem is – thanks to _Chloe’s_ presence – it’d send Lucifer to High Heavens too...

“We are replaceable. We all are ready to suffer and die in the service of God and we’ll do it with joy,” says Gabriel with a triumphant glint in his blue eye. Lucifer thinks snidely that his sudden bound of zealous courage probably has a lot to do with Michael’s obvious unwillingness to risk his twin’s safety. “This always was your problem. You two are too much in love with your own ego to ever truly appreciate the beauty of being instruments of our Father’s will.”

The Devil ignores his inane babbling. He’s trying to communicate with his eyes alone that Michael really needs to move his finely feathered arse and fast. The last time an angel was accused of treason, their _loving_ Father broke him, burned him and threw him into the realm of eternal torment. All of that happened even though Lucifer was arguably His favorite son – he doesn’t want to think what He’d do to Michael whom He mistreated even on His good day.

The problem is, Michael remains as still as a statue, staring bleakly at the blood on Lucifer’s neck. He doesn’t even blink when Raguel and Jehudiel slowly start to move toward him. They watch him warily as if he were a wounded predator, ready to lash out.

“You don’t have any faith in anything greater than yourself, renegade. You never did. God is life and yet you blasphemously scorned His gifts for the Devil,” says Raguel disbelievingly as if the very notion was beyond her understanding. “There’s no love or loyalty in you and the Devil is the _only_ thing you have, so you cannot afford to lose him too. You don’t have a choice and you know it.”

Underneath the raging fire in Michael’s eyes, there’s an apology intermingled with fear and despair – with cold certainty Lucifer realizes he won’t defend himself. Gabriel managed to do the only thing he could to checkmate his normally indomitable brother.

Lucifer sees red.

It’s simply unacceptable that this... this pompous, straw-haired bastard... this harebrained, under-feathered bootlicker... this snotty little shit got the better of Michael.

Gabriel made a mistake though... he’s completely disregarded the fact that Lucifer – while less bellicose – is equally powerful as his twin. And he’s willing to kill and destroy in defense of those he loves. He supposes he’s partially responsible for Gabriel underestimating him... poor Uriel did the same, even though he was much smarter than the blonde archangel.

During the Rebellion he didn’t destroy anything that couldn’t be healed or rebuild but he still caused so much pain that guilt never truly left him. It made him unwilling to defend himself against other angels to his full capacity, even if sometimes it meant being beaten black and blue. Smiting them would’ve prevented that from happening but was his dignity worth it? The only thing he’d accomplish this way would be proving that his Father was right when He proclaimed him a monster.

Sadly for Gabriel and his cohort, his endless penance doesn’t include allowing them to terrorize Michael. It’s not an offense the Devil is willing to dismiss and pardon as easily as maltreatment of his own person. Their brazen attempt to use _him_ as an accessory to subdue his favorite brother just adds fuel to the fire of his wrath.

Without warning, he shifts to his Devil form. As predicted, finding himself with an armful of the infernal monstrosity makes Camael jump and loosen his hold but Lucifer is only starting.

He reaches to the fiery core of his soul, to the demiurgic flame that allows him control over the matter of this universe. It’s a child’s play for his will to get a grip on the archangel behind him and to boil his entrails in his own blood... The one upside of being a torturer is that he knows exactly how to cause the maximum of pain without killing his victim... too fast, that is.

Camael howls in abject agony, his body’s convulsing and it’s enough for Lucifer to free himself from his grasp. With serpentine grace he switches their positions, using the spasming angel as a shield from the rest of intruders. Not that the enraged Devil is their only problem...

With the immediate danger to Lucifer gone, there’s nothing else to keep Michael acquiescent. Raguel doesn’t even know what hit her before she’s annihilated in a flash of white fire. Gabriel and Jehudiel were fast enough to block the full force of the blast with their wings but it’s still enough to throw them back and knock them off their feet.

Paniel makes a pained gasp and Lucifer quickly looks at him, only to see him doubling in pain. There’s a blade sticking from his stomach, its hilt firmly in _Chloe’s_ hand. It seems she’s made good use of the dagger inherited from Sandalphon. She clearly had it on her the whole time; she just waited for the right moment to strike.

Their eyes meet for a moment – hers are full of horror but also determination, his are pure hellfire.

“Run, _Chloe_!” hisses Lucifer, through Camael’s cries. He’ll be much safer as soon as she’s gone.

He doesn’t have to tell her that twice. She immediately rushes toward the elevator, knowing better than try to play a hero in a fight where archangels slaughter each other.

Meanwhile, Jehudiel managed to get back on her feet. With a sword in hand, she launches herself at Lucifer in a desperate attempt to use his mortality while it lasts. The Devil has no intention of allowing that. He throws still screaming Camael at her, making both angels fall to the floor in a tangled pile of limbs.

Lucifer doesn’t wait for them to gather their bearings. He summons his flame and uses it to turn Jehudiel and Camael into ashes. Even those don’t linger long as the gust of sheer divine power scrambles them into nothing.

Gabriel takes one look at Michael who’s storming at him with murder in his eyes and he dashes toward Paniel. He grabs his wounded comrade and they both disappear to the sound of rapidly beating wings.

It’s over.

The twins exchange glances, making sure the other is in one piece. They’re blessedly alone as the blonde managed to escape. Lucifer can almost feel his invulnerability returning as she’s getting farther and farther away.

“Nice use of flames. Very precise,” praises Michael, trotting toward Lucifer. He immediately starts fussing over the shallow cut on his brother’s throat, trying to get a good look at it.

“I’m fine,” complains Lucifer.

The cut stopped bleeding, it’s nothing to worry about but the feathery menace won’t rest until he checks anyway. The Devil doesn’t actually mind the attention from the only person in his family who never was unkind or indifferent to him. He allows his brother’s ministrations, actually leaning into his touch. Michael gives him a searching look and then hugs him tightly.

“Of course my flames are brilliant. I was named for fire and light,” babbles Lucifer through a lump in his throat. “I have it on my bloody label.”

“Yes, you do,” agrees amused Michael, letting him go.

“Idiot,” scolds him Lucifer. Michael is too good tactician to not know that his capitulation was as likely to spare the Devil as a snowman was to survive in Hell.

“Learned from the best, little brother,” ripostes the archangel with a lopsided smile.

Lucifer scowls petulantly because, unfortunately, he didn’t exactly set a good example himself when he tried to convince everyone that he’s fine with being collateral damage. Oh well...

He frowns when he notices something small, fluffy and brown lying on the floor... Correction – there is quite a number of those littering the penthouse. He picks up a stray feather and only then he notices, his hand is red and scorched – he’s still in his Devil form. He’s slightly embarrassed he’s been subjecting his brother to this gory sight but he feels considerably less self-conscious than usually when someone from his family sees him like this. Nonetheless, he allows himself to morph back to his devilishly handsome visage.

“Look at that,” he snorts, showing the feather to his brother. “All jokes aside, it seems Gabriel indeed went into a stress-induced molt. Methinks, he doesn’t enjoy his new position as much as he thought he would.”

Not that Lucifer is surprised. First of all, running Silver City is a two-angels job. Michael managed to do so even without his devilish counterpart only because he knew what he was doing. Secondly, Dad – while He doesn’t give a damn about day-to-day matters – loves to set impossible tasks for His right-hand angel and doesn’t tolerate failures. Thirdly, there’s always plenty of power-hungry siblings believing they’d do better and consequently undermining their commander. Neither ruling Heaven nor Hell is as much fun as it sounds.

Gabriel liked to talk a big game but in truth, he doesn’t handle well working under pressure.

“Of course, he doesn’t...” snickers Michael. “The poor thing probably never realized that it’s a high-stress job, with insane hours, no official holidays and absolutely no retirement plan. And better let’s not mention all the risks involved and the glaring lack of the life or health insurance. Dad didn’t pay me enough for this.”

“Dad didn’t pay you at all,” points out grinning Lucifer.

“Precisely my point!” exclaims the archangel.

Lucifer almost jokes that he should have invited his twin to Hell more often to give him a chance to blow some steam off but then he freezes. It wouldn’t be the truth after all, would it? Lucifer never actually invited him... not since he kicked him out from his new domain right after the Fall. As a matter of fact, he didn’t ask Michael for anything of consequence since then. When his former partner imprisoned him in Hell, he sent Amenadiel to ask for help, instead of directly prying to his twin.

Since that debacle, Michael’s been displaying all signs of an angel wishing to nest. Some of the trinkets he managed to accumulate thorough ages mysteriously found their way to the penthouse. From day one he was bringing Lucifer anything pretty (that included attractive humans), shiny or tasty (like baked goods stolen from Amenadiel) to demonstrate his capability of taking care of his potential nest-mate’s needs. Let’s not mention all the wing preening until they were glowing perfection.

Lucifer hasn’t been oblivious to that but he stubbornly refused to respond. After all, the universe has a nasty habit of kicking him in teeth every time he admits, he wants something. Besides, there’s a nagging voice in his head reminding him at every opportunity that Michael simply misses sharing an aerie with a radiant, unblemished version of Lucifer from before the Fall. He’s no longer that person, he’s the Devil... On the other hand, Michael had eighty thousand earthly years to figure that out and yet he never ceased his attempts to get Lucifer’s attention. Standing up to their ever-loving family wasn’t a small thing too...

Perhaps, giving a _try_ to nesting together wouldn’t be such a bad idea...

The confrontation with archangels left the penthouse in a bit of a mess, burn marks and splatters of blood included. Some renovations are in order, as well as some changes. It’s an opportunity to take a risk and invite Michael to make this place his home too. He wouldn’t be a long-term guest anymore.

He glares at the spot where he had his ill-fated date with his treacherous partner... Even looking at it feels like self-flagellation but he was too hung on the past and too paralyzed by grief and fear of challenging the status quo to do anything about it. Maybe getting rid of this unfortunate reminder wouldn’t be so bad either...

Lucifer is about to say something on the subject but Michael suddenly tilts his head and his eyes take an unfocused look.

“Amenadiel is praying to me,” he says. “He and Maze were attacked too.”

Lucifer curses because it makes sense that their siblings have done everything to prevent them from joining forces. Without wasting time on pointless debates, the twins fly to check on Maze and their elder brother. Guided by the prayer, they swiftly find them in the parking lot behind the building where Linda has her office.

The first thing they notice are puddles of blood on the pavement and some stray feathers chased by the wind.

“Still in one piece?” asks Lucifer, checking Maze and Amenadiel for any signs of pain or injury. Thankfully they seem fine if bruised.

“That was a close call,” confesses glumly Amenadiel.

“Oh please,” snorts Maze. She licks one of her bloodied blades with relish. “Cowards tried to surprise us but we showed them what it means to be a _true_ warrior. They ran back to Daddy crying.”

Lucifer is about to make some quip about badass demons eating angels for breakfast but he never gets a chance.

Suddenly they’re engulfed by the brilliant white light of pure divinity and the presence of their Father is overwhelming. They don’t have time to do anything – not that they could against such power – before they’re unceremoniously dumped on some hard surface.

Lucifer looks around frantically and finds Michael and Amenadiel right next to him but there’s no sign of Maze anywhere. He also recognizes unmistakable white towers and gentle light of Silver City.

They’re in Heaven.

“Bloody Hell,” curses the Devil, not able to stop himself.

“Not quite,” answers his Father’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hear some mad witch cackling in the distance, that’s probably me...


	8. God Was Never on Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The celestial family reunion goes as well as expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings! :D First of all: thank you for your support and feedback. I wouldn’t write this story if it wasn’t for you all. Credit for this chapter’s title belongs to Motörhead. 
> 
> Secondly: I’m concluding the Purgatory with this chapter but there’s going to be **a third part** of this series. 
> 
> Thirdly: please remember that this fic is rated as **explicit** and I put the warnings for **graphic descriptions of violence**. Well, this chapter is a reason for that. Actually, I’ve marked with *** the beginning and the ending of a particularly unpleasant fragment if someone wishes to skip it. You’ll know what happened anyway. 
> 
> Oh, btw, I paraphrased 1 Corinthians 10:13 and Jeremiah 9:13-15 (RSV) to make Dad sound more Old Testament :| 
> 
> [Visloka nervously checks her bunker and opens a red wine. Okay... it’s time to run and hide] 
> 
> **Content warnings: ** blood, gore, burns, violence, semi-medical procedure, general mind-fuck, very bad parenting

Silver City is exactly as Lucifer remembers it, forever unchanged in its flawless perfection. Its blindingly white towers, arches, and domes still glow with sempiternal light, contrasting starkly against the black sky. Its beauty remains unparalleled and unblemished by the passage of countless eons.

The Devil abhors it... this shiny monument of hypocrisy and conceited pride.

All this beauty is nothing but the most superficial of lies created to disguise an endless discord, false piety, and pettiness masquerading as justice. The light that should be warm and welcoming is cold and merciless in exposing the smallest of imperfections of the City’s inhabitants. There’s no place here for randomness or any signs of individuality, for the growth of self... it’s discouraged and disapproved, and, finally, severely punished. Everybody are subjects of the relentless, rigid order.

Silver City never felt like home... more like a cage. A magnificent one, true, but the cage nonetheless.

In a certain way, Lucifer prefers even Hell. At least, there’s some sort of brutal honesty about its pervasive ugliness. It’s exactly what it appears to be – the realm of eternal darkness, the dumpsite for the garbage of this creation.

The Devil grits his teeth and straightens his spine. It’s too late to be afraid – whatever’s about to come he’s determined to face it with pride. With a corner of his eye, he sees that Michael’s demeanor mirrors his own. Their shoulders brush lightly, both in a show of solidarity and in mutual reassurance.

No matter how outwardly poised Lucifer is though, he can stop the flood of painful memories. He recognizes the place where they are... this particular amphitheater built from white marble, surrendered by tall columns. They’re standing on the arena, encircled by endless tiers filled with angels. He remembers countless performances and tournaments that took place here... all those jubilant events...

He also remembers painfully well how he laid here in a bloodied heap after the confrontation with Father. His wings were shattered and the spine was broken... and even though his injuries rendered him unable to move, Amenadiel still chained him like a beast. He could do absolutely nothing but suffer in silence while Father disowned him, cursed him and proclaimed him a vile abomination. The humiliation was almost unbearable as God did all of that in front of the entire family. None of them said a word in his defense – not even Mother – they just praised the Lord for how _righteous_ and _just_ He is.

Lucifer doubts if he can survive a repeat. And no matter how cripplingly alone he was then and how much it hurt when everyone disavowed him, he’d rather not have his two brothers facing the same fate alongside him. He knows that if Father decided to punish them, there’s no way for him to protect them.

He hasn’t realized, he started shaking until Michael presses himself tighter to his side in a silent attempt at comfort.

At some unseen sign, all angels kneel and bow their heads in complete silence, humbling themselves in front of God. Only Lucifer and Michael remain standing tall – they won’t degrade themselves for Dad’s amusement – but Amenadiel starts to lower himself.

The Devil reflectively grabs him by the collar of his shirt, keeping him upright. He gives his eldest brother a hard stare saying: ‘You’ve rebelled. You’ve fallen. Own it.’ Amenadiel pales but responds with a barely perceptive nod. He looks extremely self-conscious as the three of them are the only ones standing amidst the sea of bowed heads.

God keeps them all like this for a few minutes and the Devil can’t help but sneers at this cheap display of power. He’s disgusted with how eager to abase themselves his kin are but at the same time, he understands them. Their Father manifests as a larger-than-life Presence on His throne; He emanates pure divinity-light-power, encompassing them all. Even Lucifer can’t help stirrings of yearning-love-worship in his heart but he rejects them firmly focusing on his resentment...

He knows all too well the price of Father’s love and he’s not willing to pay it.

Even if he was tempted, persistent dread for his little, makeshift family doesn’t leave room for surrender. He has no idea what happened to Maze, Linda and all the humans that were nearby when God took His sons to Heaven. There’s a very good reason why He prefers to send angels, instead of interfering personally.

Is LA even still _standing_?

Lucifer doesn’t know why Dad decided to take matters into His own hands but he’s oddly certain it’s not to simply tell them how much He missed them. Or to invite them over for the family barbeque. Unless, of course, they’re going to be barbequed... wouldn’t be the first time.

Once again, there’s some invisible sign because all the angels arise from their servile positions and take sits. Amenadiel audibly sighs in relief which earns him a glare from Michael.

“Gabriel Malakiah[1], come forth, son,” says God. His voice reverberates not only through the amphitheater but their very beings too.

Lucifer exchanges glance with his twin, who is equally puzzled. Neither of them knows what to expect. Meanwhile, Gabriel slowly arises and with few flaps of his wings, he lands on the arena in front of God, with his back to the three fallen angels.

“I’m at your command, Father,” he says, respectfully bowing his head.

“I have tasked you with bringing My wayward sons to Me, Gabriel,” announces God flatly.

The blond archangel doesn’t waste any time as he swiftly falls to his knees, bowing even lower.

“Please, forgive me, Lord,” he implores. “I failed You. I’m so sorry for being so unworthy of the name of Your servant. But I couldn’t fulfill my task, they were just too strong for me...”

“Am I not the faithful God who does not test anyone beyond their endurance?” Father interrupts him coldly. “Have I not provided you with sufficient tools to help you prevail over any obstacles? What excuse do you have?”

“None, Father. None,” whispers Gabriel in defeat. Lucifer can’t see his face but judging by his voice he’s fighting tears. “I’m sorry.”

“You have offended Me with your failures,” says God, making the blonde archangel tremble visibly. Lucifer doesn’t blame him – finding oneself on the receiving end of Dad’s anger is the opposite of fun. “In My infinite mercy, I forgave you all the times you disappointed Me while fulfilling your duties as My Messenger. I have arisen you to your new exalted rank. I gave you everything and you have repaid Me by demonstrating endless ineptitude,” He continues ruthlessly. “I cannot forgive such _disrespect_.”

Gabriel flinches with every word as if they were blows. His wings are trailing limply on the ground behind him in a penitent, submissive pose.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats miserably, now openly crying. “I’m undeserving of Your grace and mercy, Lord, but... please, please, give me one more chance to earn Your forgiveness. I’ll do anything, just, please, don’t abandon me, Father, I beg You. I’m sorry for being such a failure. I’m _nothing_ without Your love. Please, do not forsake me.”

Lucifer cringles in second-hand mortification at his younger brother debasing himself like this in front of the entire Host. He saw enough despots in his life – yes, Father including – to know that begging for mercy can give at most illusionary relief and only postpones the inevitable.

This spectacle is making him feel sick to his stomach. He knows God well enough to tell He’s already made a decision regarding Gabriel’s fate but he still lets him degrade himself.

“You have lost your place at My side,” God answers simply, turning deaf ear to His son’s desperate pleas.

The air shimmers in heat and power, and Gabriel’s wings are set on fire. They all watch in mute horror as the blond archangel trashes on the ground in agony as his feathers turn to ash. Each of them flares as if in protest and accusation as their divinity is ruthlessly destroyed. Even in their dying moments, they’re still conducting emotions they’re touched with... and that means Gabriel is crushed with the full force of God’s anger and disappointment. Lucifer knows well that the mental pain caused this way is far worse than the physical one. After the feathers are gone, the flames eagerly consume flesh, bone, and muscle of wings burning them to charcoal... they crumble to dust an inch after an excruciating inch.

By the time it’s over, it seems as if an eternity has passed but it’s probably been only a few minutes. The dead silence in the amphitheater is disturbed only by Gabriel’s sobs. His wings are but a memory and his entire upper back is a mess of burns. He’s on the ground, curled as far as his wounds allow him. He looks around with the wild eyes of a cornered animal as if in a search for escape or help. All the angels avert their stares as burned – they’re probably afraid, they might get tainted by association. God condemned him so he’s no longer one of them, no longer worthy of their attention.

Lucifer returns Gabriel’s gaze – he knows all too well how he feels right now – but he too remains silent and unmoving. Amenadiel seems frozen in terror with pity written all over his face. Michael angrily purses his lips into a thin line but he doesn’t say a word. They’re in enough trouble already – they won’t stick their necks for Gabriel.

He’s not one of _them_ either.

Something shifts and the ground disappears from under Gabriel who falls. For his sake, Lucifer hopes he’ll crash on the terrestrial plane and not lower. He doesn’t have any faith in his younger brother’s chances of surviving in Hell or in any of surrendering it dimensions.

Lucifer catches the look on Raphael’s face – her almond-shaped eyes are wide and her mouth is slightly agape. Her whole expression screams a panicked: ‘Oh, shit, I’m the next one in line.’

“You bastard,” says someone in a voice strained from anger.

It takes Lucifer a moment to realize, he’s the one who spoke.

He’s shaking like a leaf as Gabriel’s punishment brought back so many horrid memories... of burning... of falling... but it doesn’t stop him from glaring at Father in loathing. He figured out what He’s doing.

“It was never about dragging us here to face judgment,” continues Lucifer, deciding that self-preservation is overrated anyway. He ignores angels sneering and hissing hatefully at him. “You used us as one of Your accursed _tests_ to see if Gabriel has what it takes to be the Commander of the Host... But you knew from the beginning, he won’t succeed. You’ve set him for a fall, haven’t you?”

It’s hard to tell with the amorphous brightness that is the manifestation of God but Lucifer could swear the old bastard looks amused.

“_Samael_... those are not mutually exclusive,” He points out.

Lucifer greets his teeth, peeved by Dad calling him by his old, hated name. He’s nothing ‘of God’ and, most definitely, not His ‘Venom’.

He desperately focuses on this relatively small annoyance. Anything to not think about Gabriel and what happened to him... He’s always been unfalteringly loyal – a little fool who obeyed the order without question. And yet he still failed Father’s draconian expectations and was discarded like trash.

If this is how God dealt with a devoted angel, then what He’ll do with rebellious ones? Especially after He intervened personally to bring them to Heaven...

“Amenadiel, come closer,” orders God.

At this point, Lucifer feels nauseated with fear. His heart thuds wildly as he watches Amenadiel making a few hesitant steps toward Father. He desperately doesn’t want him to share Gabriel’s fate or worse...

Not now... not after they’ve become brothers again.

“Father,” Amenadiel carefully greets Him, bowing slightly.

“My Firstborn, My Fury and Righteousness,” says God slowly as in contemplation. “I have entrusted you with many great and important tasks through ages. You have been My most faithful champion. And yet now when I look upon Heavens you are not here, you have abandoned your place.”

Amenadiel is as tense as a string ready to snap. His dark-grey wings are ruffled and shift uneasily, presumably in an anticipation of a strike.

“Heaven is my home, Father,” he says, carefully picking his words. “But recently I’ve discovered marvels of the world You’ve created. I didn’t appreciate it before but now I see the true beauty of Your design.”

Even in a situation like this, Lucifer's thoughts immediately go in a salacious direction. He must agree with his brother here – Linda’s undeniably beautiful, both in body and in spirit. He too discovered some true marvels with her...

“You have been indulging in an amorous relationship with a human,” elucidates God, clearly not impressed with Amenadiel’s prevarications. It was to be expected – attempting evasiveness with an omniscient being is beyond pointless. “You followed this path even though you know angels are not allowed to take lovers or have spouses.”

There’s a nervous ripple among angels who exchange glances and whispered comments. Amenadiel squirms slightly under their collective attention.

“Yes,” he admits. “And we share love. How something so wonderful can be wrong?”

Lucifer would be prodigiously proud of Amenadiel if he wasn’t so afraid he might get smitten on the spot. His question was painfully naive though because the beauty of love is irrelevant to the reason behind this prohibition. God – the egocentric old creature that He is – reacted with wrath and vengeance whenever the Israelites tried to worship other gods. Of-bloody-course, He’s not willing to share devotion of His firstborn children with anyone else. Allowing His eldest to have a romantic love would set a dangerous precedent. What if other angels started to have ridiculous notions that they’re entitled to dreams of their own too? Oh, perish that horrid thought...

“You also have a lascivious relationship with a demon,” continues God coolly.

This time there are few cries of outrage among angels; they’re shocked and disgusted by their eldest brother’s extracurricular activities. An affair with a human would earn some sneers and raised eyebrows but it wouldn’t be unanimously condemned. Sleeping with an enemy – a demon from Hell – is considered more repulsive than bestiality and basically equals treason... It’s unpardonable. Lucifer sincerely doubts Amenadiel’s good name will ever recover from this blow.

“Yes,” affirms Amenadiel and judging by his strangled tone, he came to the same conclusion as Lucifer. “I _love_ them both, a human and a demon.”

The murmurs among the audience turn into shouting. The amphitheater is filled with angrily gesticulating and yelling angels, their wings rustle threateningly. Some of them are as bold as to demand severe punishment or are rejecting ties of kinship. Such reaction isn’t a surprise but being publicly shamed like this makes Amenadiel shrunk into himself. His wings are defensively pressed to his back and he seems ready to spontaneously combust.

“Father,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the general hubbub which overtook the amphitheater. He’s evidently struggling to remain calm. “I’ve always been at Your every command, I did everything You wanted. I never asked You for anything as serving You was a reword enough. But I’m asking now... Please, grant me this one boon and let me stay with them. They’re my love and happiness.”

“If that is what you want...” starts God and it feels as if entire Silver City was holding its collective breath. “Then you are no longer My son and those are no longer your siblings. From this moment on, you are a stranger to Me and all who are Mine. You will be forever banished from Heaven and all the Realms of Light so your soul will never find peace nor consolation in your endless grief.”

Amenadiel all but stumbles back to the twins, his face ashen. He looks devastated. Lucifer – who stands closer – touches his shoulder comfortingly but in truth, he’s almost giddy with relief. Given God’s normal standards of punishment, Amenadiel got off easily.

So what if Father exiled him? Amenadiel’s been living on Earth for years now, he’s found a new home there. And who cares that other angels will shun him now? They’re a tedious bunch anyway, who needs them? Oh, Amenadiel will probably brood anyway but the Devil plans to enroll Maze into his master plan to drag him out of his sulk. The cuddling probably should be left to Linda, though... And both she and Maze are fine; Lucifer refuses to consider any other possibility.

Well, Amenadiel is in one not-barbequed piece... So far, so good. Hopefully, it doesn’t mean God simply chose the economic option and plans to depose the three of them in one go.

“Come forward, Michael,” commands God.

Lucifer knew this summons would come but he flinches anyway; his anxiety skyrockets once again. He watches with a clenched heart as his brother steps closer to God’s throne. On his way, he lightly brushes Lucifer with his wing, provoking scandalized gasps among angels. Undoubtedly, they find such a display of familiarity with the great and terrible Devil blasphemous, so of course, Michael couldn’t resist making his affiliation clear.

All comments die out quickly, replaced by tense silence because Michael offers God no greeting, no gesture of respect. He keeps himself rigidly straight, his defiance apparent for everyone to see and Lucifer can only hope the idiot won’t get himself smitten for his pride alone.

The silence lasts long enough for everyone to start squirming in an anticipation of a thunderstorm, rain of fire and brimstone, an apocalypse, and other signs of God’s wrath. Michael remains impassive, seemingly happy to stay like this for the next eternity, engaged in the silent battle of wills.

There’s no chance in Heaven nor Hell that God will leave such audacity unpunished. The problem is, Michael probably doesn’t think he has _anything_ to lose at this point...

“You have renounced your birthright as My son and have forsaken your place among My angels,” says finally Father. There are few whimpers of fear and disquiet in the otherwise deafening silence. The tension is almost palpable. “After all blessings and graces I have bestowed upon you in My boundless generosity, you offered an insult to My Name. Am I not your Lord the God? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“How could I call You _my_ Lord when it’d be nothing but empty words? Is it loyalty that You want or merely its fearful imitation?” answers coolly Michael. The entire Host shudders at his brazen words. The rustle of their feathers is like whispers of wind heralding an incoming storm. “Far too long I’ve stayed silent in face of acts which I consider abominable. _No more_. I will no longer serve You.”

Lucifer just stares at him, too terrified to move. He feels like he’s trapped in a nightmare consisting of his worst fears but it’s not a dream. It’s really happening.

Somehow hysterically he thinks he finally understands Michael’s plight from the ages preceding the Rebellion. He constantly struggled to stop Lucifer from starting arguments with Father, too afraid of the consequences of His anger to take a risk. Back then the Devil didn’t understand the fear that made his twin compliant and reluctant to stand up to God.

He understands now... oh, he understands all too well... The problem is, Lucifer’s recent trip to Hell was the last straw that broke camel’s back and Michael finally snapped. He’s not backing off.

“You have forsaken My law numerous times and you refuse to obey My voice,” says slowly God. “You have stubbornly followed your own heart and have chosen a brother over your Father. Therefore thus says I, the Lord of Hosts: you no longer are My son. You are dead to Me and all who call Me their God.”

The long-anticipated storm of divine wrath finally hits in a form of fire and light that engulfs Michael’s wings, setting them ablaze. The blow is powerful enough to send him crumbling on the ground.

It’s Lucifer though who’s agonized scream pierces through the heavy silence. He madly dashes toward his fallen brother but Amenadiel grabs him, mumbling “It’s too late”. Lucifer doesn’t care. He hits him in the golden spot that holds a special place in the hearts of all males, mortal or immortal. Amenadiel doubles in pain, losing grip on the Devil who wastes no more time.

He spreads his wings, gathering his power as he rushes to Michael’s side. He doesn’t care that his brother’s wings are burning. He covers them with his own, using them to direct all of his considerable will and skills. Anything to tame the flames...

But God’s fire escapes the Devil’s commands – it’s relentless in its only purpose. Lucifer struggles desperately but he’s losing hopelessly and more than that... He feels as his own feathers start to catch fire which burns him with overwhelming fury and contempt. He knows he will unavoidably succumb to destruction. He squeezes his eyes shut against pain but he doesn’t let go... He’ll _never_ let go...

And then it’s over. The flames are gone as suddenly as they appeared.

Lucifer slowly opens his eyes. He quickly blinks through tears to look at his brother. Michael is trembling violently on the ground, his eyes are closed. Small pained whimpers are escaping through his tightly pressed lips but he seems mostly unharmed. Aside from his wings, that is...

Oh, Father, what have you done?

Michael’s gorgeous, majestic wings are reduced to a burned ruin. His formerly pristine feathers are charred and are falling in a rain of ash and dust. Only some of the tertials and coverts somehow survived near the very base of the wings. Oh, God, why... By the time the flames went out, the wings have already been burned so badly, there’s nothing left of them but an arm length stumps... And even those are scorched so horribly, there’s no possible way of...

“Samael, step away,” commands sternly Father.

Not bothering to stand up from his kneeling position, Lucifer slowly raises his eyes to look up at the brilliant splendor of God. He hates Him with every fiber of his being. Instead of doing as he’s told, he gathers Michael in his arms, clutching him tightly to his chest. Given the state of his poor, mangled wings, Lucifer’s probably hurting him but the pain is good. It means he’s still alive.

At this stage, it beats every other alternative.

“_No_,” growls Lucifer.

It seems God’s not ready yet to smite the Devil. For all he knows, it’s the only thing stopping Him from hurting Michael as badly as Gabriel. Or worse. Probably much, much worse.

“Step away or I will remove you by force,” threatens Father.

In response, Lucifer shifts to his Devil form. For once in his life, he’s completely at peace with gasps of horror and disgust provoked by his visage. He’s the Mocker and the Accuser of everything divine after all... His mere presence is sacrilegious in this holy place. At this moment, he delights in forcing them all to face what they’ve caused, rejected and are terrified of.

He spreads his white wings threateningly – they’re stunning and completely at odds with his infernal form. Some of his feathers are burned and damaged by flames but this ragged look is rather fitting for a fallen angel that he is.

Unexpectedly, he feels a shaky touch of a familiar power reaching out for him in a question and an invitation. He immediately recognizes Michael – no-one else’s divinity is a mirror image of his own – and he’s relieved his twin is lucid enough for this. He knows exactly what is offered to him and so he accepts. Michael’s power seamlessly merges with his own, doubling his strength.

“Go ahead... _Dad_!” spats venomously Lucifer, allowing his eyes to turn into pits of fire. “Try.”

He knows he won’t win... not against God Himself and all His angels. Not even a free reign over Michael’s power can change that. They both will probably die... but not without putting up a hell of a fight. He’ll make the Rebellion look like the 4th of July by comparison. Silver City will pay a heavy price for damning them.

In the end, he’ll inevitably lose no matter what.

Despite it all, Lucifer feels odd calm washing over him. He’s in some distant place beyond fear and anger, beyond pain. He knows how this will end. All that’s left is making this last stand count.

Somewhere behind them, he can hear Amenadiel begging Father to spare them but everyone ignores him.

And then the destinies shift again.

“I will relinquish further punishment on Michael, under one condition,” announces God. “You will cut off his wings, Samael.”

“What?” gasps the stunned Devil, shaking his head in horrified disbelief.

What Father suggested is unthinkable. In all eons of their life, the worst Lucifer ever did to Michael was giving him a black-eye. _Once_. It’s not comparable to what God is demanding... No, he can’t... No...

“You wish to spare him the pain of being punished by Me? Then you will punish him yourself as is your _duty_,” Father informs him mercilessly. “I will release both of you then.”

Lucifer is mutely shaking his head. Everything in him rebels against even thinking about it, let alone doing it... His mind blanks out at the perspective of something so unforgivable as raising a blade against his brother... It goes against everything he is...

In Hell, he was pushed face-first into the vilest darkness of the universe until all of his resistance was broken and he gave in to his fate. He was forced into the role of a torturer who punished mortals in the name of someone else’s petty spite for which he was blamed for... But they were sinners, rotten with their misdeeds – the pain was what they deserved... Never-mind, that every time he punished them something was dying in him until his soul grew numb until he felt dead inside... But all was well, it was justice, he enjoyed it, he loved doing it, punishing the wicked was his one true calling...

He’s _never_ hurt an innocent though. He refused to. He didn’t care what God’s authoritarian rules said – if he deemed someone innocent, they were untouchable. There would be no going back for him if he ever crossed that line. It was a piece of his soul he managed to keep for himself through everything.

Michal didn’t do anything to deserve torment of being burned, of losing his wings. And what’s even more important, he’s a family Lucifer has chosen for himself, his best friend. They’ve been protecting each other since _forever_ – hurting him is unthinkable.

“No...” whispers Lucifer. “You can’t make me...”

Not surrendering to God’s demands probably means their death but he can’t... He can’t... he can’t he can’t he can’t...

A light touch to his hand stops his panicked thoughts in their tracks. Michael looks at him over his shoulder. His eyes are wide and full of pain but there’s a determined glint in them. He recovered enough after his ordeal to recognize an out when it was offered. And he’s pragmatic enough to take it.

“No...” Lucifer repeats brokenly.

He’s close to being physically sick. He’s shaking. He doesn’t have the strength to force himself to do this.

Michael maintains eye contact the entire time, silently trying to convey the message that it’s alright. He’s afraid of pain but the ultimate death scares him more. To avoid it, he’s willing to pay the price of having the stumps of his wings chopped off in front of the entire celestial proletariat.

Lucifer takes a few spasmodic breaths and swallows harshly.

“Alright,” he says. His voice sounds off and not at all like his own but it doesn’t matter. Father is many things but He’s not a liar. He’ll keep His word once given. “I’ll do it and You’ll let the three of us go, with _no further_ harm, is that correct?”

“Yes,” agrees Father.

Lucifer releases his grip on his twin’s power, allowing him to have back control over it. Maybe it’ll help him feel less defenseless. Michael tightly squeezes Lucifer’s hand before he pushes himself away to brace himself on his hands and knees. He’s shaking lightly but it’s hard to tell if it’s from fear, pain or combination of both.

Lucifer shifts back to his angelic looks... The purpose of his Devil form is punishing the guilty – he refuses to taint it with _innocent_ blood. It’s the only rebellion he can afford at this moment.

Someone throws him a dagger which falls in front of him with a clatter. He hears Amenadiel yelling something – judging by the noises, he’s fighting several angels who are keeping him away from them. He’s vaguely aware of the presence of God and others but they all seem oddly distant, unreal. His whole world tunnels to what he must do...

This one ghastly thing...

His hands are badly shaking so he glares at them. Intellectually he knows Michael’s wings are so badly burnt that cutting them off is necessary... it doesn’t exactly help him on the emotional level though. Somehow, with the sheer force of will, he forces his hands into being steady.

He touches the back of Michael’s neck in the last attempt at comfort. It’s a silent apology for what’s about to come and a plea for him to not struggle. Never before Michael was this badly wounded. His fight-or-flight instinct can easily override his rational mind when in so much pain... Lucifer knows his resolve will shatter into a million pieces if he’d have to restrain him on top of mutilating him.

He almost burst out crying when Michael leans into his touch, instead of flinching away.

Lucifer picks up the blade and quickly deposes of charred remains of Michael’s shirt. There are some burns on his back but nothing that can’t be healed later.

He gently strokes the sad cluster of feathers that somehow survived... (He preened them lovingly countless times; his incorrigible brother always got them so ridiculously messy...) It’s his way of saying goodbye... and he hopes Michael’s still able to feel something through them, something other than pain and God’s wrath.

One of the coverts falls under his touch and sadly drifts toward the ground. The Devil reflectively catches it and hides it in his pocket.

He takes another breath. He can’t postpone this any longer... He’s only torturing them both by delaying an inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

***

***

He rests his hand in the middle of Michael’s back, between the stumps of wings. Reluctantly, he takes a grip of the left one... It feels wrong, not like flesh at all... its surface is rough and charred. It’s scorching hot from flames but he forces himself to strengthen his hold... Michael immediately goes rigid but it’s only a beginning.

Lucifer pulls sharply, making the wing-bone dislocate from its socket with a loud pop. Michael jerks violently but he manages to stay in place... Lucifer steels himself to ignore his reaction because no matter how horrid was wrenching a limb from its rightful alignment, it’s still better than the alternative. Which would be hacking through a whole, undamaged joint with no anesthesia whatsoever. Dislocating the wing will make cutting it off easier... and _relatively_ less painful.

As in trance, Lucifer once again picks up the knife and uses it to lightly touch the spot where he’s going to cut. With no further permeable he starts slicing through skin and powerful muscles that give the wing its strength and agility.

Michael recoils sharply trying to get away but then somehow he forces himself to stay still, his whole body tense and shaking with the effort. He’s flinching with every move of the blade. There’s absolutely no escape for him; he can only spasmodically clench and unclench his fists, frantically clawing at the ground. Lucifer desperately wishes to comfort him somehow but he can’t stop – at this point, it’d only make things worse.

He almost throws up when hot blood spills down the blade and touches his skin.

It seems like an eternity by the time the first wing is done. Michael’s eyes are glassy from pain and tears are streaming down his face. There’s a little blood on his lower lip – he must have bitten it. He’s trembling even worse than before, probably going into shock.

Lucifer can’t pause though, no matter how much he wants to give him some reprieve. He knows waiting would only prolong the torture. And if he stops, he’ll never be able to force himself to pick up the blade again.

He has trouble getting a good grip on the second wing – his hands are slick with blood by this point... And the large, open wound on his brother’s back draws his eyes like a magnet. He did that...

In one ruthless pull, he dislocates the second wing and this time Michael cries. Lucifer's hands are shaking when he starts slicing again. It makes his moves less precise than before and the knife roughly scrapes the bone... Lucifer _feels_ vibrations through the blade. He almost loses it entirely when that makes Michael sob brokenly.

Lucifer doesn’t know how he manages to finish this... His vision is blurry with tears but even that doesn’t prevent him from seeing two bleeding wounds on his brother’s back. They’re forever burned into his memory. Michael collapses the moment Lucifer’s done. He curls into a fetal ball, his whole frame wracked with violent shudders.

***

***

There’s one last thing Lucifer must do.

He grabs his own feathers and pulls roughly. He rips out few, not caring for pain – he deserves it – or that there’s blood on their roots. He quickly presses them to Michael’s back. Divinity contained in the feathers combusts, healing wounds and burns. Slowly coagulating blood is the only reminder that he was hurt at all... that and fresh scars.

It’s done. It’s over.

Lucifer makes no move to touch Michael though. After what he did, he doubts his twin will ever again want any comfort from him. He doesn’t dare to look him in the face. He can’t handle the confirmation that Father took even that love from him and turned it into _hate_.

Shell shocked he stares fixedly at the blood covering his hands. He hopes Father has enough mercy to just smite him into oblivion.

He’s empty, hollow. There’s nothing left in him anymore.

He’s completely unaware of what’s going on around him. Nothing matters anymore.

He doesn’t notice when a ripple seems to go through the entire world when God leaves His throne. Lucifer remains detached and unmoved like a boulder in the middle of the stream when Father’s presence envelops him like a cocoon. He doesn’t react when he’s lifted from the ground to float in an ocean of golden light.

Unfortunately, he’s dragged from this safe, devoid of feelings vacuum when his wings are touched. Father’s power surrounds him like a womb and Lucifer’s wings are stroked with pure love. He jerks like burned because it’s too much, far too much in his frozen state. He struggles wildly to escape. He doesn’t want to accept any love right now. The problem is, the horror of what he’s done shattered all of his mental barriers...

Soon, Lucifer finds himself bawling like a child and clinging to the being who broke him.

When all his tears are spent, he slumps in exhaustion. But then it occurs to him what he’s doing and once more he starts fighting to getaway. His wings are beating wildly, finding no target.

Something changed and his heart is no longer frozen in anguish. There’s something else there. Anger.

“_Why_?!” wails Lucifer. “Why are You doing this to us?!”

Father slowly materializes into a more tangible, humanoid visage made of golden energy. His beauty is unequaled, everything about Him is perfect but Lucifer remains numb to this splendor.

Instead of basking in the presence of God who graces him with a face to face conversation, Lucifer looks around searching for his brothers. He sees them and the rest of the amphitheater simultaneously very close and an immeasurable distance away. Michael is still on the ground and Amenadiel is fussing over him. Lucifer wants to call for them but he has a feeling, Father is making sure, no-one can hear or see him.

“Why?!” he repeats desperately.

“It needed to be done,” answers Father without any trace of remorse. “It is high time for you to let go of this silly attachment you have for your brother.”

Lucifer stubbornly shakes his head. Maybe he’s lost Michael’s love but it doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

“Do you really think he will ever forgive it was _your_ hand that held the blade which crippled him?” asks God cunningly.

Lucifer just glares through tears. No, he hasn’t crippled his brother. It was Father who has done it when he burned his wings beyond recognition. Of course, God’s ensured that Lucifer was complicit when He forced him to cut them off. He doesn’t believe he will _ever_ be forgiven for this... he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. This thought crushes his heart all over again.

“Do not despair, My son,” says God, gently wiping tears from his face. Lucifer flinches at his touch. “You need to understand that an angel with such a dark spirit as your brother is only drawn to your light because he wants to own and use it. He is incapable of appreciating it for its beauty,” A shadow runs through His luminous face. “He is far too much like your Mother.”

“Don’t...” growls Lucifer. “Don’t ever speak of him like that.”

He’s sick of God insulting his twin at every opportunity and after what He did to him... it’s unbearable. Lucifer boils with rage because if anyone tried to own and control him, it was both of his parents. Unlike them, Michael always cared for the person he was, with no price tag attached to his affection.

Well, that was before Lucifer butchered him...

Once again he looks back at his brothers. He’s relieved to see that Michael managed to stand up and is keeping himself vertical, without Amenadiel’s help. He’s pale like death and bloodied but he’s keeping it together well enough. Of course, the stubborn bastard didn’t stay down for long...

“Why are You doing this to us?” Lucifer asks again, through a lump in his throat. He’s shaking all over, he’s in pain, he’s angry. He’s been pushed far beyond his endurance. His mind flashes to the memory of a blade scraping on a bone and blood on his hands... He wants this to finally be over. “Just _kill_ _me_ and let’s be done with this!” he screams at his Father.

“Hush, Samael, My little Light Bringer...” chides God calmly. “Destroying you has never been My intention.”

“Oh, really?” mocks Lucifer. “Because being thrown to Hell gave me somehow different impression.”

“It was unavoidable,” God informs him. He’d probably shrug if it wasn’t too undignified for Him. “Your childish idealism made you blind to My Plan and you stubbornly refused to embrace your role in it,” He gives Lucifer an insufferably condescending smile. “Do not think of Hell as a punishment. It was a lesson. A _purgatory_ to burn out your empty pride, doubts, and misguided dreams. You needed to see for yourself that the creation cannot work as you believed it should. The humankind is a great example of what an excess of free will leads to. They are well on their way to self-destruction as I knew they would when I created them. It is truly distasteful but you needed to experience and see it for yourself.”

So that’s that with God loving humankind above all else then...

“Well, as far as character-building experiences go, this one sucked arse,” drawls Lucifer. He kissed goodbye his self-preservation instinct somewhere around the time when he hurt his brother.

“Causing you so much grief saddens Me, son,” says Father with a long-suffering sigh that sets Lucifer’s teeth on edge. That sick bastard... “Hell has made you brittle and twisted, your light is dimmed. Chloe Decker’s purpose was to help undo this damage.”

“Fantastic job on that one, old man,” snaps the Devil. “Truly splendid. She sent me back to Hell! You told Michael and Amenadiel that she was meant to entrap me there forever! How was that supposed to help?!”

“Oh, they misunderstood Me,” chuckles clearly amused God. “I did not say that you would be imprisoned in Hell forever... only that you would never be able to leave it... Not without help at least,” He adds as if in an afterthought. His smile gets broader. “You did abuse My generosity of allowing you trips to Earth so I took it as an opportunity to prepare a little miracle for you. In all possible realities, one way or the other, she was invariably the reason for your return to Hell. It was always meant to destroy your hope and make it impossible for you to live your life as before.”

Lucifer blinks languidly, too stunned to even be angry anymore.

“But why?”

“Some things need to be re-broken in order to ever _heal_ properly,” says Father as flippantly as if He were explaining some simple mathematic equation. Lucifer feels sick. “She was made perfect for the purpose of you devoting her your entire heart and soul... as is an angel’s due.” Lucifer's eyes widen in horror at having his suspicions confirmed. As if he hasn’t felt violated enough before... He’s an independent being, not someone’s thrall! “You cannot escape _your_ nature, Samael, no matter how fast you ran,” adds Father probably hearing his internal screaming. “I sent Cain and Uriel to test your devotion...”

This revelation makes Lucifer feel as if a whole planet fell on him.

“You sent Uriel... for me to... to _k-kill_ him?” he chocks.

“This creation is old and lacks balance. Inconsistency of patterns drove Uriel mad,” says Father, waving His hand dismissively as if the life of one of his children was completely irrelevant. “He needed to be terminated anyway and this way his death served a higher purpose.”

“You bastard...” hisses Lucifer.

He smote Jehudiel and Camael but he only destroyed their bodies, not their souls – they are fine. Unlike them, poor Uriel was completely obliterated from existence. There is no going back from that...

And it’s God who manipulated the events leading to Lucifer committing a fratricide.

“Enough of that,” orders Father. “All this pain was necessary for you to finally let go of everything that holds you back... all those naive principles and attachments of yours. They are unbecoming. You need to realize that the only love you require is Mine... not your Mother’s, brother’s or Chloe Decker’s. _Mine_,” He smiles brilliantly. “Let me help you and you will become the Bearer of Light you were always meant to be.”

Lucifer, who’s been seething in silence through His speech, glares darkly hearing this offer.

“I think, I’d rather go back straight to Hell,” he responds coldly.

Sadly, Father is unperturbed by this rebuttal. He puts His hands on Lucifer’s shoulders, basking him in warmth and love.

“I can heal your pain, your scars,” He says gently. “I can make you perfect as you were before, only richer with new experiences and thus wiser. No more suffering and hopeless striving, Samael, only peace and love. Only happiness without end.”

Against all reason, the Devil is tempted... the absence of pain sounds almost too wonderful to resist. But he knows Father’s offer is a fruit from the poisonous tree and the price is too steep. If Lucifer accepted, he’d lose _himself_.

He gathers what remains of his strength and jerks away, freeing himself from God’s grasp.

“My name is not Samael. It’s _Lucifer_,” he declares icily. “And I accept my pain, my scars, and my imperfections as they are. Maybe I’m broken but at least I am _me_,” he stares unflinchingly God in the eye. “You can kill me but You can’t have me or control who I am.”

God chuckles softly as a parent indulging a stubborn child, throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, I have never controlled your mind... neither yours nor that ingrate’s, you call a twin,” He says. “You two entirely escaped the original plan I had for you.”

Lucifer narrows his eyes. Perhaps, God never controlled their minds... _perhaps_. But He manipulated them in hundreds of ways to make them do His bidding. It’d be gratifying as all hell if they indeed managed to throw a wrench into the cogs of His precious Plan.

“You promised to let us go,” he reminds. “We’re leaving.”

“Of course,” Father agrees easily. Lucifer doesn’t want to tempt fate even more, so he starts to back away from Him. “But, Samael... I say this to you and you know it to be the truth... by the end of this year you _will_ come to Me of your own free will.”

Lucifer freezes. He most certainly doesn’t want to ever return to Heaven but Father is omniscient... He knows the future as well as the past.

“We will see about that,” he says defiantly.

Father’s smiling face is the last thing he sees before the light overtakes him once again. He has no time to panic before he’s dumped together with Michael and Amenadiel in the parking lot in front of Linda’s office building.

* * *

Lucifer viciously scrubs his hands, trying to get rid of the blood from under his fingernails. He’s been struggling to clean himself of all reminders of what happened almost the entire time since they were brought back on Earth.

The one good thing in this whole mess is that Maze and Linda are both unharmed, aside for being worried sick for them. As far as they could tell, the rest of the human population remains blissfully oblivious of their ‘assumption’ into Heavens. For LA’s residents, it was a day like any other with no divine interruptions.

That’s about all Lucifer knows. He didn’t want to listen to Amenadiel’s retelling of what occurred or see Maze and Linda’s reactions. He just grabbed Michael and flew them both to the penthouse. His twin muttered something about not wanting to look like a Halloween decoration and dashed to a bathroom. He hasn’t emerged since.

Lucifer looks critically at his hands. They’re clean but he still feels warm blood on them. The memory is like a punch to the gut and he doubles over the sink, dry-heaving. Nothing but spit comes out of his mouth... He recalls, he lost the content of his stomach after Chloe’s unfortunate offer of red wine... It seems like an eternity ago, in a past life.

Getting himself under some semblance of control takes him a few minutes. Dazed he makes his way to the living room where he gracelessly plops down on the couch. Completely deprived of energy he buries his face in his hands.

What has he done?

_What has he done?_

He doesn’t know how long he spends like this until a soft rustle of fabric jerks him from his stupor.

He looks up only to see Michael loitering at the entrance of the living room. Cleaned of blood and in fresh clothes, he seems fine at first glance. His unnatural pallor, hunched shoulders, and red-rimmed eyes tell a different story though. If that wasn’t enough, a fluffy blanket he’s wrapped in is a dead giveaway that something’s amiss.

Lucifer hands twitch involuntarily. His first instinct is to go to his twin and do something to help him feel better... His mind ruthlessly reminds him it’s probably the last thing Michael wants right now. Not after what he did to him.

“Hey,” Lucifer whispers.

“Hey,” answers Michael.

Lucifer’s fairly certain he’s lost him for good this time... and it’s _his_ own damn fault. He hates this whole situation, this second-guessing, not knowing how to react. The things between have never been this strained... well, except for the time right after the Rebellion.

Back then Michael followed him immediately after his Fall... but neither of them was aware of the faster passage of time in Hell. From Lucifer’s perspective, it’s been ages of laying completely incapacitated by his injuries. Michael helped him regain his corporeal body but its state reflected what happened to his soul and that’s how his Devil form was born. Lucifer – once the brightest and most beautiful of God’s angels... definitely the most sociable – was turned into a monstrosity which mere glimpse could bring mortals to madness. He wasn’t exactly happy about that.

It wasn’t Michael’s fault – he’s always been hopeless as a healer and even the most skilled of them wouldn’t be able to undo the damage caused by God Himself. It didn’t stop Lucifer’s anger though. He resented his twin for not joining him in his rebellion and doing nothing when Father condemned him. He didn’t take well to Michael’s explanations that he didn’t see a way of interfering without making things _worse_... Or that he made a tactical choice to stay free and unharmed so he could deal with the aftermath of God’s wrath.

It all led to Lucifer telling him to get lost in misplaced fury and punching him. Before he took off, Michael told him he’s a prayer away if he wants him back. Lucifer never summoned him, even though the heartbroken look in his eyes haunted him for ages. At first, it was hurt pride and anger that held him back, later on, guilt and regret.

He still didn’t fully comprehend then, the consequences of his entire family shunning him. He didn’t understand yet that he never was truly wanted or respected among the angels. The moment Father rejected him, they all turned against him without question... And the only sibling who wanted to stay by his side, he pushed away all by himself.

He had no-one but _himself_ to blame for ending up all alone in Hell.

It took some centuries before their relationship returned to something resembling normal... that and Michael persistently popping down to Hell with the most ridiculous excuses.

It’s not a surprise when he takes the initiative this time too.

Michael’s moves lack their usual feline grace as he makes his way toward Lucifer. He maneuvers unceremoniously until he’s snuggled to his twin’s side with the blanket draped over both of them. He releases a contented sigh and closes his eyes as some tension starts to melt away from him.

Lucifer stares at the sad angel burrito at his side, too stunned to move. It’s not one of the scenarios he’s envisioned... it’s pretty much opposite of all of them. He starts to seriously worry about his brother’s sanity because he surely must be out of his mind if he still wants to be around him...

For eons, they trusted each other with the care of their wings and Lucifer violated that trust.

It’s hard to do anything worse to an angel then cut off their wings. They’re more than just a means of transportation. One of their functions is ensuring the smooth flow of energy which is particularly important with the twins’ demiurgic powers – a little mishap could easily lead to blowing the entire solar system into nothingness. The divinity in feathers allows miracles that are normally outside of an angel’s basic skill-set... like, for an example, healing in their case.

And flying... absolutely nothing could match the feeling of exhilaration and freedom brought by flying.

All of that was taken from Michael. And Lucifer is at least partially responsible for that.

“Stop that, Luci,” mumbles Michael without opening his eyes.

“I’m not doing anything,” protests Lucifer.

“You’re self-hating so loudly, I can _almost_ hear you,” his brother informs him matter-of-factly. “Stop that.”

Lucifer swallows convulsively. He shudders when a memory of a blade grazing the wing bone assaults him again.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer says miserably.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” informs him Michael, tiredly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I have nothing to...” Lucifer repeats in disbelief. “I _hurt_ you.”

This time Michael reanimates and lifts his head to give him a weary look.

“You did what was necessary,” he says and blinks quickly. “I’d rather be in a few pieces than dead. _Thank you_ for protecting me,” he hesitates and his eyes take on a haunted look. Despite his rapid blinking, a tear escapes him. “I felt it when you touched my feathers, you know. It... helped me to go through that.”

Lucifer shakes his head, feeling like crying himself.

“If it wasn’t for me you would never be in this mess...”

“Lucifer,” Michael sighs explosively. “I was sick and tired of Dad, Heaven and this pathetic bunch of imbeciles we sadly call siblings. Sooner or later, I’d quit anyway. You didn’t tell me to do so, as a matter of fact, you warned me not to. I knew there’d be a hell to pay. After all, I saw what Dad did to you after you rebelled and you were His favorite. Me on the other hand?” he scoffs bitterly. “He never missed an opportunity to let me know how much He despises me. I’m _surprised_, He didn’t kill me,” he levels the Devil with a stern stare. “So, Lucifer, please, stop trying to take responsibility when you’re _not_ to blame in any way or form.”

Lucifer blinks slowly. Absolution is not that easily given. Well, at least not when it comes to him. He’s learned that lesson the hard way.

“Why are you not angry?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, I am...” Michael laughs darkly, with no trace of humor. His eyes are suddenly glowing with fire. “Just not at you. It’s _Dad_ I’m furious at. And Him... I blame for everything,” The fire dies, replaced by tears. “He didn’t have to do any of this,” he adds softly.

This time it’s Lucifer who closes the distance between them and hugs his brother tightly. Michael nuzzles into a hollow of his neck, curled like a child; his shoulders are shaking slightly. Lucifer rubs his back, carefully avoiding fresh scars. He still doesn’t quite believe that Michael won’t finally come back to his senses and won’t run in the opposite direction but... He needs Lucifer right now. The Devil can angst over this mess later.

“Well, I’m not letting Him anywhere near you ever again, that’s for sure,” he promises. “We’ll fix this somehow.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little brother,” mumbles Michael, sounding a little chocked from crying.

“He might be God but I’m the Devil,” reminds Lucifer, trying to convince them both, he knows what he’s doing. “We’ll figure something out. It’ll be okay, Mikha,” he adds using an old nickname he has for his brother.

This is enough to make Michael cling to him even tighter.

Lucifer looks venomously at the ceiling, hoping that the invisible recipient of his glare can feel his wrath and hate.

_This is not over, Dad..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Malakiah could be roughly translated as ‘messenger of Elohim’ or ‘Messenger of Yah’. It makes sense as a moniker for Gabriel, considering what was his function. 
> 
> It must be said that cutting off wings from an alive angel appears to be much more difficult than doing the same with a dead chicken.... This is not a sentence I ever thought I’ll write.... 
> 
> And guys... I’ve been foreshadowing this. 
> 
> Thank all of you who actually managed to go through all of the above :P


End file.
